


Family Heritage

by JudyLauraL_2015



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Family Bonding, Flashbacks, Gen, Meeting Ancestors, Protective ancestors, References to Coco (2017), Warning-references of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 64,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudyLauraL_2015/pseuds/JudyLauraL_2015
Summary: At thirteen years old Desmond Miles tries to runaway from the Farm to see the world. Instead he finds himself on the Other Side where he meets his ancestors. Together they all embark on a journey to send Desmond back home, and Desmond will uncover hidden stories of his family legacy.
Relationships: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Maria Thorpe, Arno Dorian/Élise de la Serre, Aya | Amunet/Bayek (Assassin's Creed), Desmond Miles & William Miles, Evie Frye/Henry Green | Jayadeep Mir, Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Sofia Sartor, Kaniehtí:io | Ziio/Haytham Kenway
Comments: 11
Kudos: 80
Collections: Assassin's Creed





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are my first ever Assassin's Creed fanfic. Inspired by the movie Coco.

Here we are my first ever Assassin's Creed fanfic. Inspired by the movie Coco.

Chapter 1

Desmond was pushing himself even as his lungs begged for mercy along with every muscle in his body, but he didn't stop.

He couldn't stop. Not when he was so close.

He ran through the trees, jumping over fallen trunks and branches. He pushed through briars and shrubbery, ignoring the pain as thorns cut whatever skin was exposed. Still Desmond did not stop. If he could reach his destination, he was home free.

He could hear his pursuers behind him, coming closer. They were gaining on him, Desmond could feel it. He had to lose them somehow. The trees had lost most of their leaves, leaving them exposed, but Desmond has always been a fast climber, and he was light. They couldn't catch him if he was in the trees.

Decision made, Desmond climbed the nearest tree with branches just low enough for him to grab. His fingerless gloved hands scraped the bark painfully, but Desmond was mostly numb from the cold and the adrenaline rushing through him. He lifted himself up, finding strong branches to hold his weight until he was high enough where he couldn't be reached. The trees were close enough he could jump from branch to branch, swinging like a monkey. However, Desmond knew to be careful. One false move and he would fall twenty feet to the ground. Not enough to kill him, but the fall would be painful. From behind, he heard his pursuers cussing, and he allowed himself to grin. His tactic was working. His pursuers were too heavy to climb the lower branches, and they would have a hard time catching him on foot. Ha!

He was almost there. Desmond could feel the excitement burning through his veins despite the temperature.

Then it happened.

All of a sudden, his vision changed. His surroundings were gray. Oh no, not again, Desmond thought in despair. Please not now. This happened at the worst times ever. So distracted was he from his change of vision he didn't even realized the direction he was going until it was too late. He shook his head and blinked several times and his vision returned to normal.

The trees were getting thinner, more spread apart. It was getting more difficult to grab branches close enough to reach, but if he stopped and went to the ground his pursuers would easily catch him. Watching his balance, Desmond ran as fast as he dared and jumped. Arms stretched out, he reached for the nearest branch… and caught it.

A smile appeared on Desmond's face until he heard the sickening snap. The smile was wiped clean off his face, and horror struck him as he saw the branch he held onto snapping. He was dangling with nothing below him but the ground. He hurried to grab the stronger part of the branch, but he wasn't quick enough.

He felt his stomach rising to come up as he fell. He hit branches that snapped upon impact. Desmond even tried reaching out to the side of the tree until he landed hard on his hide.

He tasted blood and dirt, and the pain was so bad he didn't think he could move. He thought he heard someone call out his name, but his head was aching. Suddenly, he felt himself being turned onto his back, and he groaned in pain. He opened his eyes and saw the face of Mark, one of the older kids who trained and lived on the farm.

Mark grinned as Desmond blinked at him. "And he's alive!"

Desmond moaned, bringing a hand to his head. He could already feel a headache coming. Mark held out his hand, and Desmond took it, allowing the older boy to hoist him up as everyone came out of the trees and shrubbery.

"So close," Mark said, still grinning annoyingly like he did every time Desmond screw up.

The exercise.

He had been so close. He was supposed to infiltrate the older kids' camp, snatch a book, and return without getting caught. Well, he got caught.

Dad's never going to let me hear the end of this when he finds out.

Four older kids and their trainer Jack came out of the woods and into the clearing. Jack was around the same age as Desmond's dad with a scar cutting across his left eye, and a stare as unforgiving as Desmond's father when he was severely upset or annoyed.

"You got careless, Miles," the older man began.

Desmond tuned the man out as he began his lecture on all the things he did wrong.

Stupid vision. At times it felt like it was more of a hindrance than an advantage. He had discovered it over a year ago when he had gotten lost in the woods during a training exercise with his father. He had been so scared, lost in the middle of the woods with his father nowhere in sight. Then all of a sudden, his vision had changed. His surroundings had been gray, but farther away he had seen a figure of gold and somehow knew it was his father. He had also seen red shapes that he figured out to be wolves, and had been able to avoid them and reach his father without further trouble. That had been the one his strange vision had helped him. Other times it would just randomly happen, especially at the absolute worst times. To this day, Desmond still didn't know how it came and went. He knew it wasn't normal, which is why he had never told anyone, not even his own parents. After all, who would believe him?

When Jack reached the end of his rant, Desmond made sure to nod and say, "Yes sir," to show that he had been listening.

"Good. Now get yourself cleaned up at the Farm. The rest of you back to camp," Jack ordered.

One of the girls spoke up before they left. "Can I have my book back?"

Desmond unzipped his jacket where he had stashed it and handed it to her. He then made his way back farm, Jack close behind him.

He took the time to look and feel his injuries as he walked. His hands were scuffed up from the tree bark but his gloves had helped protect him from the worst. His muscles ached, especially his arm, but amazingly it didn't seem like he had broken anything. His face on the other hand… Desmond felt the right side of his mouth and hissed as his fingers brushed against the tender skin that had been broken either by a rock or his own teeth for all he knew. Either way it hurt like a bitch.

They made it out of the woods and the Farm was right there where less than a dozen houses were and on the far side behind them was an old looking farmhouse that looked like it had once held a lot of livestock. It looked innocent on the outside, but Desmond knew better. It was where all the weapons and supplies were stored for an invasion, and other items that Desmond and everyone in the community were forbidden to even look at. Everyone except his parents. His parents kept these items in a vault locked under a code only they knew.

Desmond and Jack made it to his house just in time to see Desmond's mother taking down the last bits of laundry hanging outside.

She looked up and saw them, and Desmond could see the worry in her eyes as she set the laundry basket down and walked over to them. She lifted Desmond's chin and took in his injuries. "Oh, Desmond, not again."

Desmond pulled away from her gentle touch. "I'm fine. It's just a scratch."

His mother frowned. "That's more than a scratch young man."

"Is Bill in?" Jack interrupted.

Desmond's mother nodded her head towards the house. "In his study."

"Thanks Liz." With that he left both mother and son to talk to Desmond's father.

Liz made Desmond come inside to the kitchen where she began to treat his wounds. Cleaning them with alcohol which burned, but Desmond kept himself from crying out in case his father would hear. His mother's touch was gentle as she carefully dabbed and cleaned his wounds.

Her hazel eyes were focused on him, and Desmond took in her features. In her mid-forties, Elizabeth Miles was still a beautiful woman with her dark hair pulled back, showing her aged, but still pretty features with only a thin scar across the left side of her jaw and another near her right temple to mar them. Desmond had been told all his life that as he grew older, he resembled more of his father, but people had also commented that Desmond had gotten his dark features from his mother and his golden eyes from her father as well.

Desmond wondered about his grandparents. Had they been paranoid conspirists like his parents? Was that why they were the way they were? Now, Desmond loved his parents even though his father sometimes scared him at times. However, they were so different even when compared to everybody else on the Farm. They were more strict, more demanding than the other parents on the Farm. His mother of course, cared for him, treating his wounds, and trying to be there at the end of the day to share a meal with him and talk about his day. His father on the other hand… Desmond was pretty much invisible unless he got into trouble.

"Here, keep this on. It'll keep the swelling down," his mother instructed, holding a rag with ice cubes wrapped in it. He was still cold from being outside, and his hands were still numb, but he enjoyed the relief he got when he placed it on his mouth.

The sound of a door opening and closing grabbed Desmond and his mother's attention. Jack had left the room where Desmond's father's study was, glancing at them, he told them that Bill wanted to see Desmond, and left without another word.

Desmond looked back at his mother, and she smiled with encouragement. Desmond sighed, putting the rag down, and getting up to face whatever lecture his father had in mind.

Reaching the door to his father's study, Desmond took a deep breath to steady his nerves then raised his hand and knocked before entering. He found his father at his desk looking through papers. Of what, Desmond didn't know.

William Miles looked up from his paperwork and looked down at his thirteen-year-old son.

Desmond tried to ignore the urge to shift nervously, but under the scrutinizing gaze of his father it was difficult.

"Explain," his father told him.

Desmond knew the drill.

After Jack would tell his dad what had happened, Desmond will tell his side of the story and it would be up to him to figure out what he had done wrong. So, Desmond walked through what had happened when he started the exercise earlier that day.

He had tracked down and found the campsite about a mile away from the Farm. He then watched the older kids, hiding in the trees, observing what they did while also keeping an eye out for his target. He saw it around mid-afternoon when one of the campers had taken out a backpack, searching for a box of matches when Desmond saw a book peeking out of the bag. He then waited another couple of hours for everyone to gather around the fire to cook dinner, leaving everything else unattended. By then Desmond had been cold, hungry, and he desperately needed to pee, not to mention it was almost sunset and his body ached from hiding in the same spot for hours. So, Desmond climbed out of his hiding spot and crept carefully to the campsite. He had been careful, watching out for dead leaves and twigs so as not to alert his fellow trainees. He had reached the backpack and found the book with ease, but his stomach was torturing him. He hadn't eaten anything but a protein bar since this morning, and the snacks were just a couple more feet away. Sure, they were closer to the fire, but Desmond believed that he could reach them and snatch one or two and be gone before the trainees would realize. He had actually managed to grab a couple of apples tucked in the snack bag when one of the campers had looked up and yelled "Hey!" before Desmond took off, forced to leave his snacks behind, but with the book safely zipped in his jacket. Desmond then told his father about the chase in the trees, leaving out the part when his weird vision had come in and distracted him as he always did.

When he finished his dad finally imploded. "How could you be so careless?!"

Desmond flinched, knowing it was coming.

William got up and paced behind his desk. "If the exercise had been real, you would have been dead, or worse, captured, and for what? Because you had been hungry!"

William turned away from Desmond and ran a hand through his graying hair. Desmond watched his father, trying to keep himself from feeling so small, and wishing that the floor would open and swallow him.

William sighed. "Desmond, I know these exercises are long and tedious, but do you think the Templars will care about your comfort? They won't. As an Assassin you will need to adjust and deal with the situation. Don't let yourself get distracted from the mission. Always pay attention to your surroundings. If you did, you probably wouldn't have fallen so far."

Desmond had been struggled not to roll his eyes at the mention of Templars and Assassins, knowing how mad it made his dad when he did that, but that bit made him bristle. If his vision hadn't changed while he was in mid-chase then he would have gotten away with it.

Desmond only said, "Yeah, Dad."

His father glared at him for his tone, but didn't reprimand him like he usually would. "We'll deal with this in the morning. Right now, I have to leave and meet with Gavin," he said as he searched through his stacks of paper for something.

Desmond felt his eyes widen in surprise. "Uncle Gavin? Uncle Gavin's coming here?"

He hadn't seen his "uncle" since his tenth birthday, but he remembered his father's best friend.

"Yes," William answered, finding the sheets he was looking for and stashing them into his coat pocket. "He's bringing an artifact that the council wants us to look at and keep here for safekeeping."

"Can I come?" Desmond asked before he could stop himself.

His father instantly said, "No, it's too dangerous."

"But you'll be taking Parker and Jim. Jim's only a few years older than me. If he can go, why can't I?"

"Jim's almost eighteen, and he's nearly done with his training here. I trust him to stay out of trouble," William answered as he dug into his desk drawer and took out the keys to one of the Farm's jeeps.

"I'll stay out of trouble. I will. Please," Desmond didn't care if he was begging. Just the idea of getting off the Farm, even for a few hours, and seeing the outside world was enough to make Desmond forget how sore he felt from today.

"No, Desmond. That's final," William's words crushing his dream.

Rage filled Desmond and he clenched his fists, ignoring the pain his tender skin screamed at him.

"Fine. Keep me trapped up here for the rest of my life, why don't you!"

With that, Desmond took off out of his father's study, ignoring his mother who called out to him, and headed upstairs.

000{{*}}000

William flinched as he heard his son slam his bedroom door upstairs.

His wife came to his study's doorway, arms crossed over her chest, and a frown on her lips as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Shall I take a guess and say that you told him about going to pick Gavin up tonight?"

William pretended to be organizing his papers.

Elizabeth sighed. "As much as I wish that we could keep Desmond here where he's safe, we can't Will."

"He fell twenty feet down, Liz. Twenty f***ing feet, and all because he got distracted. I'm amazed he didn't break anything. If he can't handle things here, how is he going to handle it out there?" William asked. He leaned against his desk, holding his head in one of his hands, and sighed. "I don't want anything to happen to him, you know that. I want him to be ready you know for when he goes out on his own."

He felt his wife's hand on his own, and looked to sympathy and understanding in her face. "I know that, you know that, but does Desmond know that?" she asked gently.

He looked at the scars that marked her face, both of them reminders of his failures. He didn't want that to happen to his son.

"Next time if I think he's capable, I'll take him," William promised.

Elizabeth didn't mention that his trips out of the Farm happened once a year at least, and to their teenaged son that might as well be a millennial.

William handed her the only satellite phone on the Farm, placing her in charge in his absence

"So what kind of artifact is the Council sending Gavin to give to you?" she asked.

Tried as she did to hide it, William could see the curious excitement in his wife's eyes. He remembered her family having a few members with a fascination for studies on Pieces of Eden that the Assassin's had been searching for since their foundation.

"I'm not entirely sure," he confessed, turning back to the notes he had scattered across the desk. "When I talked to Gavin, he said that they called it the Orb of Eden. It's said that in the ancient times our Brotherhood's founders Bayek and Amunet discovered it after the Final War of the Roman Republic. It was rumored that the priests used it to communicate with the dead."

"Communicate with the dead?" Elizabeth asked, shocked. "How is that possible?"

"I have no idea. It's possible that the orb may have worked in giving people the illusion that they were conversing with the spirits of loved ones long dead," William told her.

"Still, even if its power was only that of illusions, could you imagine the danger it would bring? Not to mention the agony of seeing and talking to someone you thought you had lost forever and then finding out that it was all fake?" Elizabeth asked him.

William shook his head. As an Assassin he had lost many friends and loved ones over the years. He didn't want to imagine. "Which is why Bayek and Amunet stole the Orb and hid it from the Order. Until one of our brothers stumbled upon it in Israel."

Elizabeth looked at William wide-eyed, and he knew her head had to be swimming with such knowledge. "An artifact that can manipulate minds into seeing illusions. It sounds more like an Apple of Eden."

William nodded. "It does. But." He showed her a picture of the Orb that he had been sent. "It's made of a very, very rare crystal. So rare that even our best scientists can't identify it."

Elizabeth shook her head in wonder. "It seems like the Ones Who Came Before had used materials that probably no longer exist after the great catastrophe. What could the Templars want with it?"

"I'm not sure, but Gavin thinks that the Mentor believes the Orb can actually be used to communicate with the dead," William couldn't hide his skepticism from his wife. He believed the Mentor to be a wise and grounded man, but still, to talk to the deceased?

His wife had a thoughtful expression. "I remember as a child my grandmother telling me how in the early 1900s, she had meet scientists who had tried to connect spiritualism with science. Anything is possible. But if the mentor believes that the Orb can actually communicate with the dead-"

"There could be Templars who believe the same way," William finished, seeing his wife's point.

Elizabeth nodded. "With that kind of technology, the Templars wouldn't need an animus to look into the past and uncover its secrets."

Dread knotted in William's stomach. There had been rumors of Templars searching for people connected to past Assassins, especially with those who had come into contact with Pieces of Eden. he had actually met someone who had probably been in an Animus: Daniel Cross. William could still see crazy look in the young man's eyes whenever he would believe that he was his Russian ancestor Nikolai Orelev and would start spouting off nonsense in his native language.

If the Templars had their hands on such technology there wouldn't be any need to hunt down descendants of Assassins when they could just force the ghosts themselves into telling them what they wanted.

"If that is the case, hopefully Dr. Anderson will be able to uncover its secrets before they can," William said, referring to the Farm's researcher.

He shrugged on his winter jacket, grabbing his wallet and keys. Before he left, he kissed his wife goodbye.

"Safety and peace, my love," Elizabeth whispered to him when he pulled away.

"Safety and peace," William echoed. For all of them.

000{{*}}000

Desmond threw pebbles down the roof one at a time as he glared at the jeep carrying his dad, Parker their navigator, and his son Jim off the Farm, through the wilderness, and into civilization.

It was so unfair.

Too dangerous his ass. His dad was just being a paranoid freak.

The sun was nearly gone and the stars were beginning to come out. From the roof of Desmond's house he had the perfect view of the night sky. The one highlight about being in the middle of nowhere. As Desmond looked over, he saw a shadow of a bird was flying in the dying light of the sunset. What kind of bird was it? Was that a hawk? Desmond narrowed his eyes and focused, and just like that, his vision turned gray and the bird to blue.

Desmond growled in frustration and shook his head. His vision turned back to normal.

Desmond rested his head on his arms resting on his knees. Why him? Did he do something in a past life to deserve this kind of life? Trapped in a wilderness in the middle of some ancient war between Templars and Assassins according to his parents. Desmond envied the bird soaring through the sky of its own freewill, not having anyone hold it back. If only Desmond was free, not stuck in this place that was like a military camp.

Desmond stood up and walked to the edge of the roof, trying not to feel dizzy as he looked down. The distance from the roof to the ground was the same as the fall he took earlier. Twisting his body around, Desmond grabbed the end of the rain gutters and climbed down back to his bedroom.

For a teenage boy, Desmond's room looked too military. Bare walls with nothing, not even a family photo hanging up (not that anybody on the Farm took pictures). There were no personal effects to the room other than some dirty laundry. Nothing on the surface at least. Desmond lifted his mattress and slipped out a journal, a notebook, and a map of the US from under it.

A year ago a man called Daniel had some to the Farm. it had been an experience for Desmond, talking to someone outside the Farm, even though his parents tried to keep him away from the stranger. Desmond would admit at times the older man made him feel nervous, but he enjoyed listening to him talk about his travels around the world. He had been the one to give the map to Desmond and shown him how to read it. It was all so new and exciting that Desmond was actually sad to see him go.

Desmond opened his journal and wrote about his day, detailing his anger and frustration towards his dad, and his desire to go out and see the world. Next, he took out his notebook filled with lists of places and things he would like to do with New York circled several times. Daniel had told Desmond of its skyscrapers, monuments, museums, and stores that could be found anywhere in that city. Desmond had made a promise to himself that when he would finally get off the Farm, New York would be the first place he would go to. Desmond could remember when he was younger his parents telling him stories about ancestors who had traveled the world in the service of the Brotherhood. Well, Desmond supposed he was following in the footsteps of his ancestors. Just not the way his parents had expected.

He heard his mother calling him down for dinner, and so he hid all his stuff back under his mattress covering it with a blanket before heading downstairs.

Yes, he was going to get off the Farm and out into the real world if it killed him.

000{{*}}000

So what do you guys think for starters? I've been in a bit of an Assassin's Creed phase these past several months and have not found one fanfic where Desmond interacts with all the Assassin ancestors from the beginning to at least Assassin's Creed Origins so I decided to make my own. Then I've been watching the movie Coco (great movie by the way) and that kind of helped spawned this. I don't know how often I will be updating this. I have a very busy and demanding job. I also have other works and I can only write when inspiration hits me, but for now I will try to update as often as I can.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I want to thank everyone who's read, followed, and favored this story, and I also want to give a big shout out to MasterAssassinMoon for their support. Thank you so much. I hope you guys will like this new chapter and will continue to follow, favor, and review.

Chapter 2

Desmond had been asleep, dreaming that he was chasing a bird when he reached the edge of a cliff, and then suddenly woke up. It was the middle of the night, and still pitch black outside.

Desmond ran a hand over his face and groaned. What had woken him up?

He heard it again, this time recognizing it as the slam of the house door. Desmond quickly got out of his bed to look out his window.

He saw lights on at the old barnhouse. The jeep his father had driven out in was parked right in front of the barn's doors with Parker and Jim opening them. His father was standing next to a man holding a briefcase, or what looked to be a briefcase. Desmond saw two figures heading towards the men and recognized one of them as his mother, and the other as Dr. Anderson.

That was weird. Why would they all be gathering at the barn at this time of night? Desmond wondered.

He put his shoes on, and grabbed his favorite hoodie. It was white and a couple sizes too big, but Desmond loved it and it would keep him warm. Pushing his sleeves up enough for his hands to come out, Desmond opened his window and climbed out. Hanging out carefully, Desmond let go and landed carefully on the ground, making sure to tuck and roll to roll to avoid a sprained ankle.

Silently, he crept over to the barnhouse like a wraith. Nobody saw him as he reached the west side and hid in the overgrown weeds, and listened to the adults' conversation.

Desmond realized that the man standing next to his father was his Uncle Gavin Banks, but before he could get excited, he heard Dr. Anderson speak.

"I don't know why this couldn't wait until morning." The old man grumbled irritably.

"Trust me, you're going to be glad to be up in a minute," Gavin told him.

"Parker, you and Jim keep an eye out for anyone who comes by. These doors stay shut," William ordered.

That raised Desmond's suspicions. Why would his dad not want anybody to come by? As far as Desmond was aware, his parents seemed to trust everyone in their tight knit community. What was going on?

He waited until the doors were shut, and Parker and Jim were turned away from him before he made his move. Stealthy as he could, Desmond crept out of the weeds towards the barn side. There was a window on the upper floor big enough for Desmond to climb through. He hoped that the latch wasn't locked, and that he would be able to just slide it open without making much noise.

Taking a deep breath, Desmond began his climb up the barn. The splinters dug into his hands painfully and his hands were numb from the cold, but Desmond didn't think he would have been able to get a grip if he had gloves on. Reaching the window, and finding it unlocked to his surprise, Desmond slipped in.

He could hear the voices of his parents, uncle, and Dr. Anderson down below, but couldn't make out what they were saying, so he tried to creep closer, wincing everytime his foot touched an old floorboard.

Everyone was down below on the ground. The weapons were kept near the sides of the barn while there were tables with boxes of supplies beside them. The adults were gathered at one of those tables. Gavin had placed the briefcase he had been carrying on the table in front of Dr. Anderson.

Gavin said something to the researcher that Desmond couldn't hear, and realized that he would have to get closer somehow. There were beams leading from the platform Desmond was standing on to over their heads. The light was dim, coming from a light near the front of the barnhouse, and a lamp on the table the adults were at. They shouldn't be able to see Desmond unless they looked directly up. Desmond held his breath as he carefully walked down the beam, being mindful of his balance. The height wasn't as bad as the trees earlier, but Desmond knew to be careful. Once he was above their heads, Desmond knelt down, holding on to the beam and listened.

"How did our brothers find this?" Dr. Anderson asked.

"By accident. They had been hiding from Templar agents in some shop where they uncovered a trap door leading underground. Once they had uncovered the vault, they found Precurser marks on the walls and knew something was hidden down there and decided to investigate. They're not entirely sure how and why the vault opened for them, but they found this glowing on a pedestal, but when they picked it up it stopped. Almost like it had been charging on it, but stopped when it was taken out of a socket," Gavin explained.

What the hell was he talking about? Desmond wondered. He could see excitement in Dr. Anderson from above and he could hear it as well.

"Let's have a look at it, shall we?"

The briefcase snapped open, and Desmond could feel the tension in the room.

"This is it?" his father asked, unimpressed.

Desmond tried to shift to see it better. In the case, cushioned, was a clear crystal ball with tinges of blue and purple in it. Desmond raised an eyebrow, sharing his father's sentiment.

"I hate to admit it Gavin, but it looks like a crystal ball a fortune teller would have," Elizabeth spoke up.

"Trust me, this thing's genuine," Gavin told them.

"He's right," the doctor said in awe, picking it up. "Look at it. I'll need a magnifying glass to look closer, but the minerals I have seen over the years are completely different to what we have here."

As he stood up and held it higher for everyone to see, it began to glow. Everyone was quiet and Desmond couldn't believe what he was seeing. Was this real? It couldn't be. He had to be dreaming, and yet Desmond felt that the crystal ball was speaking to him, telling him to come over it.

The glowing got brighter, and blue beams of light radiated from it.

"What's going on? What's happening?" William demanded, his eyes wide as the Orb glowed brighter.

Dr. Anderson looked awed and frightened at the same time. "I don't know. I don't know how it started."

Desmond.

Desmond.

Join us, Desmond.

A voice whispered in Desmond's head. The voice startled Desmond, and he lost his balance. He instinctively grabbed the beam as he fell, but the angle caused his arm to twist painfully, and he was forced to let go, falling ten feet to the table below. Amazingly, he hit the table feet first before landing on his back. An okay landing but still painful.

His landing startled everyone, and Dr. Anderson in his surprise dropped the Orb. It clinged loudly onto the floor, and the glowing stopped, leaving the room back in its dim light. The voice Desmond had heard was silent as well as the entire room. Until…

"Desmond?!" his parents shouted.

Desmond winced. He was so screwed.

000{{*}}000

William was proud of himself for the tight grip he had on his anger as he and his wife dragged Desmond back to their house.

After Desmond had fallen into their meeting, Dr. Anderson immediately scrambled to pick up the Orb. Whatever had caused it to act up earlier wasn't working now, leaving Desmond the target of Anderson's fury. Elizabeth had frantically checked their son to see if he had broken anything in his fall. Like his fall the day before, Desmond hadn't broken anything, except add more bruises to his aching body. At this rate, the boy was going to get himself killed.

And it infuriated William.

He opened the door and allowed his wife and son to come into the house before slamming the door shut, his temper now unleashed.

"I've just about had it, Desmond!" he shouted.

His fury startled his wife and son into looking back at him. For one second, Desmond looked like the scared little boy who would come to him, begging to be comforted from a nightmare, but in the next second, his expression changed to anger, and William caught a glimpse of the man he knew his son would one day be.

"I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Will, please. Let's just wait until morning-" Elizabeth tried to intervene, but William ignored her.

"Didn't do anything wrong? You eavesdropped on a private meeting inside the barnhouse, a place you know you're not allowed in without permission. Do you know what you've done?" William demanded. The Orb wasn't damaged, or at least it didn't seem to be. Who knows when or if they would be able to make it work again.

"How was I supposed to know you guys would be bringing in a magic crystal ball?" Desmond threw back at him.

"This is so unfair!" The boy began to pace angrily. "You tell me what I should do and not do, you tell me where I'm supposed to be and not be, and you expect me to be this perfect little soldier in your make believe war of Assassins vs Templars." Then Desmond stopped and looked at William straight in the eye. "But I'm nothing like you!"

"I am your father! You will show me some respect," William roared in his face.

"You're a f***ing dictator is what you are!" Desmond yelled back.

Something snapped in William and his fist flew. Desmond stumbled back, holding his left jaw, his eyes wide on his father. Elizabeth gasped, and horror struck William. Never had he struck Desmond unless it was part of training, and never had he struck him in anger. Regret and remorse filled him as he saw the beginnings of an ugly bruise forming on his son's face.

He opened his mouth to apologize to him. "Son-"

But Desmond didn't give him the chance. "I hate you! I can't take it anymore!"Then he ran upstairs. Elizabeth called out to him, but he slammed his door shut.

She turned, and her eyes glared furiously at William. "This is all your fault!"

William couldn't help but defend himself, however unjustly. "My fault? You're the one that's always smothering him. You can't leave him alone for five minutes without wiping his nose."

Elizabeth got down from the steps and stomped towards him. "Maybe I overcompensate for the fact that you never take a real interest in his life."

"His life is my top priority," William told her. "I know I do a shitty job at it, but how many times have I had to save that kid from breaking his own neck?"

It took several deep breaths for Elizabeth to speak in a voice that was somewhat calm, but still contained traces of anger within it. "A little warmth and encouragement from time to time would be nice."

"I'm his father!" William reminded her. "It's implied."

Elizabeth looked closer at her husband. After decades of knowing him, half of them being married, nobody knew William Miles better than she did. While everybody thought him to be a cold-blooded bastard due to his emotional distance, Elizabeth knew it was his coping method in order to serve their Order. Even now with the flames of anger she still had burning within her, she felt herself softening as she looked closer at her husband and saw the vulnerable side William rarely shared with anyone, including her. She saw his guilt, his regret, his desire to make things right with their only son, and yet unaware of how to do it.

"We've spent our entire lives fighting the Templars, searching for Precursor artifacts, and preserving humanity's free-will, and yet the one cause we value most of all, we're losing," Elizabeth said to William. She could almost cry at the sad irony of it all. They were Assassins, prepared and willing to sacrifice everything for the free-will of future generations, but they were parents as well. "When the time comes and Desmond is on his own, I don't want the lack of communication to be not because of safety measures, but because Desmond doesn't want to talk to us. He'll be a stranger, just another Assassin, and not our son."

William looked down at his shoes in shame. "We can't let that happen."

"No, we can't," Elizabeth agreed.

He looked up at his wife. "How are we going to fix this?"

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We need to do it together."

They would talk to their son, they would tell him that they loved him, and they would try to explain things better to him. Hopefully, it would be enough.

Before they could do anything, their front door was knocked on.

000{{*}}000

Desmond slammed his bedroom door, shaking the room a bit. Next, he kicked the end of his bed, gasping as pain radiated off his foot before collapsing onto his bed.

The tears he had been holding in finally started to come down like a waterfall.

He hated him.

He hated him.

He hated him.

He HATED him!

He hated his dad, he hated this place, he hated the make believe Assassins and Templars, he hated that stupid orb, and he even hated himself.

Why was he living like this? What had he done to deserve this kind of life? Desmond reached out on his bed where his old teddy bear, Rocky was and held him tight to his chest.

Why? Why wasn't he ever good enough for his father? Even when he did the things William asked of him it was never good enough for him. Desmond sobbed.

He didn't want to face his father when he'd wake up in the morning. He didn't even want to face his mother or anyone when he would wake up in the morning. Maybe he should just leave. That would make everybody happier, heck, Desmond was willing to bet that they would throw a party. He could leave and never return.

Desmond's sobs stopped, and he sat up. He could leave and get out of this whole conspiracy war shit. Hope began to form inside Desmond. He could finally see the outside world. He could go to New York then maybe someplace else. The beaches along the eastern states? California? Mexico? Maybe Europe? The possibilities were endless.

Desmond made up his mind. Yes, he would leave. Tonight.

With new resolve, Desmond got up from his bed and started packing.

He would need clothing, shoes, especially winter boots with the upcoming winter, and a jacket. Desmond carefully folded them in the largest backpack he had. He would need weapons in case he ran into trouble. His parents made him carry a hunter's knife for protection, and keep another one by his bedside. He grabbed both of them and placed them in his boots where he could still reach for them. Next, he grabbed an emergency sleeping bag, along with some matches, and some wire. He grabbed a compass that he had stolen off of one of the older kids at the Farm. he needed cash as well. He had a stash hidden under his mattress where his journal, notebook, and map were. He grabbed all that stuff. He would need the map and notebook to find his way to New York. He couldn't leave his journal behind on the chance his parents would come and look for him. He didn't want to leave any clues they could use to track him down. He would need food, but with his parents downstairs he couldn't sneak to the kitchen and grab something. Oh, he could grab some from the supplies inside the barnhouse.

Was there anything else he needed? His bag was pretty full. Then his eyes landed on his teddy bear Rocky. His parents had gotten it for him when he was a baby. His mother had to sew him twice over the years of rough playing with Desmond. It's age showed, but Desmond still loved to cuddle with it when he was feeling down or when he needed to be calmed from a nightmare. It didn't feel right leaving Rocky behind, but Desmond knew that he couldn't take it with him. He was going to be a man and be on his own.

"This it it," Desmond whispered. The gravity of his decision was starting to sink in. He was doing it. He was leaving everything he knew behind and going into the unknown. If Desmond was going to be a little honest with himself, under all his excitement he was a little scared. He couldn't back down now though. There was no turning back. If he stayed here, who knows what his sanity would be like in a few years. He had to leave.

Before he allowed himself to think again, he hoisted his backpack over his shoulders, climbed out of his window, and with a jump he was gone.

000{{*}}000

Elizabeth opened the front door. "Gavin?"

Gavin Banks, the Miles' oldest and closest friend, grinned sheepishly as he looked at them. "Is it safe to come in?"

William rolled his eyes. "Get in here."

Gavin stepped in, and Elizabeth closed the door. "Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Coffee? Bourbon?" she asked.

Gavin laughed. "I'll have a bourbon as long as Bill here doesn't challenge us to a knife throw."

"That was twenty years ago, and I was hammered," William reminded him.

Elizabeth laughed, glad to be relieved from at least some of the tension that she felt. She headed towards the kitchen to get a bottle and some glasses for them.

"How's Desmond?" Gavin asked once she was out of earshot.

"He'll live," William answered, thinking about their argument.

"Kid's growing up," Gavin commented. "Last time I saw him, he was up here to my waist, and I can still remember when Liz had just given birth to him, and you were terrified to even hold him."

William remembered. Desmond had come out so tiny and small, William had been afraid that he would break him just by holding him. It had taken Elizabeth positioning his hands before she placed Desmond in his arms. William could remember the love and awe he had felt looking down at his son, his child, for the first time, and now…

"Hey, is everything alright?" Gavin asked.

William jerked, realizing that he had been brooding.

Elizabeth came out of the kitchen with three glasses and a bottle of the bourbon whiskey she hid somewhere in the kitchen. She handed each of the men a glass and poured, but before she did her own, she set it and the bottle down on a nearby table.

"I'm going to check on Desmond," she said, and she went upstairs, leaving the men alone again.

William dranked half his glass in one big gulp, allowing the whiskey to burn down his throat. "He hates me," he confessed.

He saw Gavin's eyes widen in surprise. "Come on, Bill. He's a kid. A kid hitting puberty and into the teen years. If he didn't hate you now, I'd say something was wrong with him," Gavin said.

It was meant to help, but it didn't. William shook his head. "No, he really hates me. You just missed the battle we had earlier."

"Bill, he's growing. He's realizing the opportunities he's going to have and he's inpatient to get to them. He loves you. Deep down he loves you and Liz. That'll never change," Gavin told him.

William opened his mouth, but no words came out when he heard his wife's scream. "Desmond!"

He didn't hear the shattering of the glass he dropped. He only heard the rushing of blood in him, and his wife's screams as he bolted up the stairs towards his son's room.

There were some clothes strewn around the floor, the bed was unkempt, and Desmond's old stuffed bear was lying on his pillow, but the one glaring feature that had William's attention was the absence of his son, along with the open window his wife was leaning out of and screaming their son's name.

000{{*}}000

For the second time that night, Desmond found himself outside the barnhouse. His parents will discover his absence pretty soon if they hadn't already. He didn't have much time.

The doors had been locked, and Desmond didn't know the passcode to unlock it. Just when he was thinking about trying one of the side windows again, his vision changed. Great, just when he thought- wait a minute. The numbers on the keypad were glowing.

1-4-5-9

That had to be it. Desmond typed it in, and just like that the lock dinged open. Desmond couldn't believe it. Was it really that simple?

He didn't have time to ponder. He slipped inside and headed towards the containers of supplies in the middle of the barnhouse. He knew they were filled with ration bars and canned goods. Not the best but it was better than nothing. He set his backpack down and began to fill the space left in it with food.

Desmond.

Desmond jumped, dropping a can he had been holding onto the ground. That voice. It was that voice again.

"Wh-who's there?" Desmond hated how shaky he sounded.

Desmond.

There it was again, but there was no one in sight.

"Show yourselves!" Desmond demanded. He didn't have time for this.

Come to us, Desmond.

But he couldn't ignore that voice. His vision changed again, allowing Desmond to make out the shapes of boxes and shelves inside the barnhouse. As he looked further, he saw a glimmer of gold shining in the gray, and Desmond realized it was coming from the Vault.

Great. Desmond really didn't have time for this, and yet he couldn't leave just yet. Something was telling him that this was important. So with reluctance, Desmond followed where his vision and the voice were leading him to.

The door to the Vault was on the ground, hidden by bits of junk. Desmond moved it all to find a wheel that would unlock the door. It was a combination kind of lock, but Desmond's vision showed that he had to turn two notches to the right, then four to the left, and then one more to the right. He winced at the sounds the wheel made as he turned it. They seemed to echo in the still barnhouse. Desmond heard shouting outside, and knew he needed to hurry before somebody noticed the door cracked open.

The latch clicked open, and it moaned in complaint as Desmond lifted it open, and jumped inside.

He felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop open. In all his life he had never expected all this.

There were books and papers stacked everywhere along with weapons he recognized from the descriptions he had been told by his parents and many other adults on the Farm, and weapons he didn't recognize.

There was a flash of gold in his vision that was still on, and upon picking the object up, Desmond realized that it was some kind of armband, and upon further inspection there was a knife strapped in it. How did you get it out? Desmond didn't have time to figure it out yet, but he would when he was far away from here. Slipping it on his left arm, Desmond realized how big it was. Most likely it was built for a full grown man and not a skinny teenager, so Desmond pulled the straps with his teeth while his other hand held it in place. Once it was adjusted, and it fit snugly on Desmond's arm, Desmond continued to look around.

On the walls were sketches of men and women with hoods that covered half of their faces. They looked really menacing. However, Desmond couldn't help the strange feeling that some of their faces seemed familiar somehow.

Something shining in gold caught Desmond's unusual vision, and headed towards it. It was near the back of the room on top of a table, and Desmond recognized the briefcase Gavin had brought that contained the weird crystal ball.

Desmond blinked and his vision returned to normal.

Oh, no.

No. No. No.

Desmond remembered the trouble he had gotten into because of this thing. It's why he was leaving the Farm right now.

Please, free us, Desmond, that voice spoke again.

Desmond jumped. Why was it doing that?

Desmond.

Desmond clutched his head as if to block it out.

Desmond. Desmond free us. Desmond. Desmond.

Oh, f*** it. Desmond snapped the briefcase open and the voices stopped. Thank you.

The orb was lying harmlessly in its case. Why was it so important? What could it do besides glow?

Cautiously, he picked it up. It happened instantaneously. It glowed, nearly blinding Desmond. The lights were getting brighter and there was a humming sound. Desmond could feel his fear growing, but he did not let go. It was like his hands were glued to it. It got brighter and brighter until there was a flash. Then just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

Desmond opened his eyes and blinked. What just happened?

"What was that?" he heard a voice up above. It sounded like they were in the barn.

"It came over there."

Oh no, Desmond could feel his heart racing. He was screwed. He tried running away, he broke into the barn to steal supplies, and worse, he broke into the Vault. He was dead. His father was going to kill him and his mother was probably going to help him.

Someone came down the ladder and into the Vault, carrying a flashlight.

"Alright, who's in here?" Parker, Desmond realized.

"I'm- I'm sorry," Desmond said, holding his hands out. "I-I can explain."

He had the crystal ball and one of the knife armbands. He had a lot of explaining to do, but he didn't get the chance.

Parker came closer and just when Desmond thought that he was trying to intimidate him, he went through Desmond. Through him!

Desmond gasped. It was like smoke had gone through, but when he turned around, he saw Parker examine the open briefcase.

"There's nobody here. The Orb's been taken!"

Desmond didn't know what to do.

He ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I have kept true to the characters and nobody's too OOC. I'm so excited to be writing the next chapter. We'll see Desmond adjusting to his new condition and meet his ancestors.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I do not own Assassin's Creed or Coco.

Chapter 3

Desmond climbed out of the Vault just in time to see three other people coming towards him. He moved out of their way, but none of them made any sign that they had even noticed him. He reached out to grab someone's arm, but his hand went right through them.

Desmond could feel himself panicking. "What's going on?"

He took off out of the barn. He didn't see his Uncle Gavin until it was too late. Not that it would have done any harm, Desmond just went right through him. "Uncle Gavin!" he tried to yell, but the man gave no indication he even heard him. Gavin went inside the barn.

"Desmond!"

A flare of hope lit through Desmond. He turned around and saw his parents, both of them holding flashlights, and looking around frantically.

"Desmond, come back!" Was it Desmond, or did his dad sound… worried? He was still angry at him for their fight, but for now Desmond would take anyone who could see him.

He ran towards them, arms opened to hug his mother, until he went right through her like all the others. His momentum made him stumble, then he tripped, and landed on his back.

Desmond couldn't believe this was happening. He had to be dreaming. He had to.

"Sacré bleu!" a voice exclaimed.

He looked up, and in the darkness he saw a femine figure standing over him. "Young man, are you alright?" She had a weird accent, french he guessed, which was unusual here at the farm. Nevertheless, Desmond pushed his suspicion aside and took the hand she offered. It was gloved, but so cold Desmond felt a shiver go up his arm.

"Thanks," he said, before looking up at her.

Her attire was like a uniform dress getup from the early 1900s, and when Desmond looked up at her face, he noticed the hood hiding the upper half of her face, but it wasn't that that grabbed his attention. It was how pale she was and transparent. Almost like she was… A GHOST!

Desmond screamed as did the woman when she took a closer look at him, and let go of him. Desmond crawled backwards, his eyes on the woman- the ghost, until he hit something solid.

"Watch where you're going you-"

Desmond yelped when he realized the person he bumped into was a tall, muscular man with an axe! Never mind he was wearing a skirt, he had a hood and he was terrifying. The man gasped when he saw Desmond. Desmond looked around and saw several different people. Ghosts. All of them were from different cultural backgrounds, times, and style, but they all had hoods and an armband with a knife like the one Desmond had on his own arm. That, and they were all armed to the teeth, so Desmond took off again.

Did that magic orb send him to die a horrible death, surrounded by cutthroat murderers? Desmond didn't want to find out.

However, as he escaped the one group who found him, he barreled into another one. He collided into one of the members, and tumbled onto the ground.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Desmond gasped, half out of breath, the other half frightened.

"Desmond?" the man he had collided with exclaimed.

"Desmond?" he heard his name spoken by several other members of the group, but his eyes were focused on the man before him.

He was dressed in white robes that reminded Desmond of a monk with a red sash tied around his waist, and many throwing knives strapped to his person along with a long sword. More importantly, he had an armband and a hood.

"You're here. Actually here," the man said with awe in his accented voice. Desmond noticed a visible scar on the right corner of the man's mouth. The man continued to look at Desmond as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Neither could Desmond. "You can see us?"

Before Desmond could respond another man in white robes came barrelling at him. "Il mio fratellino!"

He lifted Desmond up and held him in the biggest bear hug the boy had ever received. It felt oddly comforting even though Desmond could hardly breath, and the stranger was heavily armed as well.

"How do I know you?" Desmond gasped.

"We're your family, mio figlio," the man answered in what sounded like an Italian accent.

"Let the poor lad breathe, Ezio," someone with a British accent told the man.

The man, Ezio it seemed, released Desmond and he gasped for air. He looked around and saw that there were at least seven people-ghosts surrounding him. At least five of them wore the menacing hoods while the other didn't. Family, the man named Ezio had called them, but that didn't make sense. From what he had been told his dad had been an only child, and his mother had only one sister who had died before Desmond was born, and his grandparents had all passed away long ago.

"I don't know any of you," he spoke out loud.

There was silence, the men all exchanging looks and glances at one another.

"I don't believe his parents have told him of his family lineage yet," said a man wearing a long heavy jacket and his hair pulled in a ponytail said.

"You and Haytham I can understand," a man wearing a dark blue coat with what sounded like a french accent said. "The rest of us-"

"I think we should introduce ourselves before the lad goes into shock," said a man with guns strapped across his front.

"Beninteso, of course," Ezio agreed. "Where are our manners?"

Desmond, however, felt like he just avoided a landmine.

Ezio turned to Desmond and bowed. "I am Ezio Auditore da Firenze, your ancestor from the Italian Renaissance."

Desmond felt his eyes widen at the information. His mind raced, trying to remember all those history lessons his mother taught him.

Ezio continued, waving to the man Desmond had run into. "This is Altair Ibn-La'Ahad, another ancestor of yours from the Crusades." The introductions continued. Desmond learned that the man with the pistols was his ancestor Edward Kenway from the early 1700s, and that his son Haytham Kenway was the man with the tricorn hat and a cold expression that reminded Desmond too much of his own father. Another ancestor was a man in white robes with mohawk features who had been quiet since Desmond had stumbled into the group. His name was Ratonhnhake:ton or Connor Kenway he told Desmond when the boy had trouble pronouncing his real name, and he was Haytham's son and Edward's grandson from the American Revolution. The man wearing the heavy jacket, and the only other person not wearing a hood was Shay Patrick Cormac, and Desmond learned that he was also Connor's father-in-law. He also noticed the tension between Connor, Haytham, Shay, and the frenchman at the word father-in-law. Then last but not the least, the Frenchman introduced himself as Arno Dorian, Desmond's ancestor from the French Revolution. After the introductions, Desmond could feel his head spinning. He knew he had a lineage of some kind like everybody else, but he never expected it was like this.

Before he could wrap his head around this information and decide if he was dreaming or not, Haytham spoke, "Now that we have that out of the way, we can get back at the situation at hand." He reached out with his hand, and Desmond flinched as he touched his face. "He doesn't seem entirely dead. His flesh is too warm."

It was, and Haytham's hand was cold on Desmond's flesh. Just then one of the older kids, Mark, Desmond realized ran through Desmond as he headed towards the barn. The action surprised Desmond and his ancestors.

"Well, he's not alive either," Connor said.

"We should talk to Bayek and Amunet," Altair suggested. "They might have a better understanding as to why Desmond is like this."

"That may be a problem," a new voice spoke out.

Desmond and his ancestors all turned around. There were two people, a man and a woman around the same height and age, and who looked a lot alike. The woman wore a leather like jacket with what looked to be a pocket watch hanging off of it. The man wore a leather jacket as well, along with a coin hanging off a simple string around his neck, and he wore what Desmond believed to be a top hat.

The woman spoke, "Amunet and Bayek were trying to board the Ferry, but-"

"But long story short: they got into it with the Ferrymen and are now being questioned at the Next Life Department," the man finished.

"Who are you?" Desmond asked, wondering if he should expect more relatives and wishing he would wake up from whatever dream he was having.

The man looked at Desmond as if he'd just insulted him. "Who are we?!"

Edward quickly stepped in. "Desmond, these are the Frye Twins, Evie and Jacob Frye. your ancestors from Victorian England."

Just as Desmond feared: more relatives.

"Wait a minute. Desmond?!" the woman, Evie asked, looking at Desmond in surprise. Jacob was surprised too when he realized what was going on. "Bloody hell! He doesn't look dead!"

The ghosts were pale and transparent, but Desmond still had color on his skin, and he looked more solid than his ancestors.

"Well he's not alive either! Which is why we need to find Bayek and Amunet," Ezio snapped.

"What were they thinking?" Altair asked, equally as upset. "We all agreed to check to see if the rumors were true before they would attempt to get on the Ferry."

During all this, Desmond struggled to figure out what they were talking about. Who were Bayek and Amunet? More ancestors of Desmond?

"Come on, we better get to the Department and figure out how to fix this," Connor told all of them.

Just like that, Desmond found himself being dragged by his ancestors. To where, Desmond had no idea until they stopped right outside his house. Dread filled Desmond's stomach at the thought of seeing his parents, but when Altair knocked on the door, instead of opening to the inside of Desmond's house, the door opened to a staircase leading down.

Desmond's eyes widened. "Whoa!"

His ancestors all made their way, but Desmond hesitated. Edward looked back, realizing Desmond wasn't following them, and smiled reassuringly to him. "Come on, Desmond. It's alright."

Desmond took a step, and realizing that it wasn't an illusion began to descend down into the unknown.

000{{*}}000

William could count on one hand the list of times he had been so scared he couldn't think and plan. This was one of those times. William and his wife had alerted the whole Farm. Everyone was looking everywhere. Jack had mentioned that it had been over an hour, and if Desmond was carrying enough supplies to last him for a while, he couldn't have gotten far. William and Elizabeth clung onto that one bit of hope.

However, William remembered every lesson he had taught his son about the layout of the land, how to find shelter, and how to stay hidden. There were wild animals out there as well, and even if Desmond somehow managed to avoid them and the Assassins looking for him, it was fifty miles to the nearest town. That was a lot to go through for a kid, even for one as stubborn and resourceful as Desmond. They had to find him.

"Bill! Liz!" Gavin's call grabbed William and Elizabeth's attention. He was standing at the barn's doors, and even in the distance and dim light, William could see the worry on his friend's face. "You guys should come see this."

Dread filled William's stomach as he and Elizabeth hurried over, knowing this was going to be bad news. They entered the barn where practically half of their community was gathered, looking towards the Vault that William realized was opened. However, Gavin didn't bring them straight over to it. He brought them over to a crate where their emergency rations were kept. Elizabeth gasped when she noticed something and ran over to pick it up. "It's Desmond's backpack."

William felt his worry increase. The bag looked full, but William knew that if Desmond had planned to run away he wouldn't have left it behind. His eyes turned towards the Vault and he slowly made his way towards it, fearing what he would find.

Parker climbed half-way out of it, and noticed William. "The Orb is gone!"

What?! William didn't hear the surprise from everyone in the room. He pushed Parker to the side and jumped into the Vault. He ignored the relics of past Assassins and hurried over to where they had kept the Orb of Eden. It was just as Parker had said: the case was opened and the Orb was gone.

He turned to Parker, noticing that his wife and best friend had jumped in to join them. "What happened?" William demanded, forcing his voice to sound strong and not desperate.

"I don't know," Parker answered. "We came into the barn looking for Desmond when we saw a flash come from over here and realized that the Vault was open. When I came down here there was nobody, and the Orb was gone."

"You didn't see anyone come out at all?" Gavin asked, incredibly.

"We saw no one come out before, during, or after the flash," Parker told him.

"Could it have been Desmond?" Elizabeth asked, clinging to Desmond's backpack as if it would bring her son back.

"It couldn't have been," William spoke out loud. "How could he have gotten in?" The combination was known only to William and his wife. There was no way Desmond could have figured it out. Unless… His eyes turned to the many sketches of Assassins, the best their Order has since its beginning, and each of these Assassins had special gifts. Gifts that had helped them from killing their targets to uncovering hidden secrets. Many of these Assassins William and his wife were descended from. Was it possible that…? William knew his son was special which was why he was so hard on him. Desmond didn't know everything about their Creed. Could he have inherited his ancestors' gifts and not fully understand what they are?

There was also the matter of the Orb. Could Desmond have somehow triggered it? And if he did, what had it done to him? A million scenarios ran through William's mind and not one of them was good.

"One of the hidden blades is missing," Elizabeth's voice broke through William's thoughts.

He pushed his way through Gavin and Parker to his wife who stood at the table where they kept the hidden blades or models of them at. One of them was missing.

"Which model was it?"

"The one that had been Ezio Auditore's."

The worry grew inside William. Desmond, where are you?

000{{*}}000

Desmond's hand ran over the armband he had taken earlier as he followed his ancestors down what seemed like level after level of stairs.

"Don't play with that!" Evie scolded, startling Desmond. "A hidden blade is not a toy, and if you keep playing with it like that you'll lose a finger."

Desmond immediately took his hand off the armband-hidden blade in alarm.

"Relax Evie," Jacob told his twin sister. "Father use to rest his head on his hidden blade arm all the time."

"Father knew how to handle his blade. Want me to tell Desmond how you really got that scar on your jaw?" Evie challenged.

The rest of Desmond's ancestors snickered or chuckled, and if he was alive, Desmond would be willing to bet Jacob's face would be red. "I was fifteen! Give me a break!"

A grin made its way to Desmond's face, but he made sure not to touch the hidden blade on his arm again. "So what exactly are you guys? What's with the hidden blades?"

All of his ancestors stopped and turned to Desmond with looks of incredibility.

"Did your parents tell you absolutely nothing?!" Haytham asked, outraged.

"We are Assassins," Ezio answered then corrected himself. "Well, most of us anyway." He motioned to Haytham and Shay. "Those two are Templars."

"So wait," Desmond held out his hands in a stopping motion. "You mean this isn't really a dream? Assassins and Templars really do exist?"

"You thought we weren't real?" Altair asked.

"Well, I don't know," Desmond shrugged. "I thought it was one of those made up things adults tell kids to scare them into behaving. You know like Santa Claus and the Bogeyman."

"The Bogeyman is real," Arno told him.

Everyone groaned. "Not this again," Shay muttered.

"He is! One year Elise and I believed that we could catch him, but we saw him running across the rooftops in Versailles," Arno insisted.

"Weren't you guys nine?" Connor asked.

"Well… yes! But still."

"Come on. We're near the bottom now," Altair said to everyone.

The ancestors and Desmond continued down till they came to a fog. Desmond could feel his alarm as his ancestors disappeared into it one by one and reached out to grab the hand closest to him (Jacob's he realized later), so he wouldn't get separated and lost. Once the fog cleared, Desmond realized they were all standing in some kind of harbor with ferryboats Desmond had seen in pictures, and hoards of people crowded to get on to them. Officials dressed in white robes with golden ropes tied around their waist guided the crowds.

"What are they doing?" Desmond asked.

"They're boarding the Ferrys to go into the Afterlife," Shay answered. "There they will be reunited with loved ones and be free of the burdens of this world. Or so the stories go."

Desmond could hear the longing in his voice, and he looked to see all his ancestors staring at the Ferry, even Haytham.

"Well, why haven't any of you gotten on them?" he asked. After all, if they had been dead for as long as they said they have then they probably haven't seen any of the people they knew and loved for centuries. That's a long time.

Arno pointed at one of the officials looking at someone's papers. "See that? They only allow people who have completed their unfinished business to board."

"And if you don't?"

"You're stuck here in limbo until it is," Edward answered.

"Yes, well this is all very interesting, but we should all continue on to find Amunet and Bayek," Haytham interjected.

Desmond made sure to stay close to his ancestors as they pushed their way through the crowds, attracting the attention of several ghosts who did double takes when they saw Desmond. Desmond was pulled closer between Connor and Ezio. Not that he didn't mind it, the stares were creepy. As they headed towards their destination, Desmond looked around at his surroundings. There were buildings towering high that were kind of a mix between modern and medieval style. Desmond had never been into studying history, but right now, he wished he had paid more attention to his mother's lessons because these sights were amazing. Ezio chuckled at the awed look on Desmond's face, and most of his ancestors grinned. It had been a long time since they'd had a family member who wasn't familiar with the sights of the Other Side.

The Next Life Department looked like a skyscraper from the pictures Desmond had seen with golden gated doors and security guards who sniggered at the sight of Desmond's family. "Well, well if it isn't the Miles Family. What was it this time? Arno and Jacob cheating Al Capone? Connor assaulting Andrew Jackson? Or Ezio insulting Michaelangelo?"

Desmond's eyebrows rose, but his ancestors chuckled humorlessly.

"We're here for Bayek and Amunet," Altair told them."and…" He turned towards Desmond, and his ancestors moved to give the guards a good view of him.

"Hi," he nervously waved.

The guards' jaws dropped and they immediately opened the doors without another word.

Upon entering, Desmond took in all the desks with people-angels Desmond decided to call them that, interviewing ghosts, telling them how they're dead and explaining the Other Side process.

"Do you have an appointment?" an angel at the main desk asked.

"No, but we are looking for two other family members: Amunet of Alexandria and Bayek of Siwa," Ezio explained. "And also." He turned to Desmond and the angel's eyes widened.

"They're still being interviewed. As for your… uh… young one, let me call Gabriel."

"We demand to speak to the person in charge!" A woman's angry voice cut through all the chaos, and snatching Desmond and the ancestors' attention.

"Found them," Jacob said.

Desmond saw two people, a man and a woman with their backs to them as they argued with the angel worker who was interviewing them.

The angel looked nervous as she talked to them. "I'm sorry Sir and Madam, but it says that your business has not been completed."

"Not completed?!" the man roared. "We have waited for over two thousand years/"

"The Orb is safe in the Assassins' hands," the woman told her. "Our business is finished. It's that magic box of yours that's saying otherwise."

"We better step in before they do something they'll regret," Shay suggested.

"Altair, Connor, you lads are up," Edward said, slapping both men on the back.

"Why us?" Connor asked

"Because you're their favorites," Jacob told them.

"And you're most likely capable of keeping them from doing something they'll regret," Evie added.

The two men exchanged a look and sighed, resigned. They made their way over towards the angry couple, while the other ancestors stayed back and watched. It didn't make Desmond feel confident in this situation. Did he come from a family of nutjobs with a thing for hidden blades?

"Amunet, Bayek," Altair spoke calmly.

The woman, Amunet spun around, and with a snick her hidden blade shot out and was inches from Altair's neck. Desmond jumped, bumping into Shay as he gasped in horror, but Altair didn't so much as flinch. Amunet recognized Altair and immediately pulled her blade away, sheathing it.

"Thank the gods," Bayek said when he saw them. "They wouldn't let us on the Ferry."

"Tell this woman that the Assassins have the Orb which means our business is finished," Amunet demanded.

Altair and Connor exchanged a nervous look before Connor spoke. "We… uh… we never managed to see the Orb."

The couple looked at him in alarm and confusion.

"We ran into…" Altair trailed off, looking at Desmond behind himself.

Everybody moved to show Desmond, and Desmond got a better look at his two ancestors. Bayek was a big, muscular man like Connor with scars all over his exposed skin with a wrap around his head that reminded Desmond of the hoods most of Desmond's ancestors wore. Amunet made Desmond think of a warrior goddess ready to go into battle. She was beautiful but deadly, and yet, Desmond thought he could see a weary pain in her eyes.

Bayek and Amunet's eyes widened as they took Desmond in like he did with them, and gasped with surprise. "Desmond?"

All of a sudden, Desmond felt like the time his parents caught him hiding in the Farm's jeep. He smiled nervously at them. "You must be Bayek and Amunet."

Amunet narrowed her eyes and placed her hands on her hips in a way that reminded Desmond far too much of his own mother whenever she was upset with him. "What is going on?"

Before anyone could explain, a door opened, and an angel with a clipboard came out and noticed them. "You the Miles Family?"

Desmond could only imagine how they all must look: a modern teenage boy surrounded by almost a dozen people spanding from different centuries and cultures, and looking ready to start World War III. This was not what Desmond had expected to happen when he decided to leave home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The assassins Desmond ran into earlier were ones I made on the fly. The French woman is an assassin from WWI, and the man he bumped into was a Scotsman from the early 1300s. The fact about Shay being Connor's father-in-law, read MasterAssassinMoon's "Child of the Cross" and "Her Game of War" to find out about Catherine Cormac. I'm sure you guys would like it as I have.
> 
> I hope I've kept true to everybody's character. I was told that the fight between Desmond and his father was intense and the reason for that is I wanted Desmond and his father to get into such an argument, Desmond would want to runaway at thirteen instead of sixteen in the original storyline. I wasn't sure how far to go. I do believe that William genuinely loves his son, he just has problems showing it. I know that if parents are angry at their kids it can be kind of a disguise of how scared and worried they are for them, and I think William uses his anger to hide how much he worries about Desmond.
> 
> What did you guys think of Desmond meeting his ancestors? If there's a particular ancestor you want me to write about let me know. Please review and let me know what you guys think.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit I had fun writing this chapter out. As well as Desmond and William's point of view, I'm also going to be doing several of Desmond's other ancestors' pov. Thank you all so much for your support, and it helped to encourage my writing. Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Chapter 4

"Well, you're cursed," the angel, Gabriel said in a matter of fact tone.

Desmond and his ancestors were all crowded in the angel's office. It was a fairly large room, but with piles upon piles of stacked papers and files, and a dozen people inside, it was a bit of a tight squeeze. Desmond stood in front of Gabriel's desk with Bayek and Amunet standing beside him and the others gathered behind them.

At Gabriel's news, the ancestors all cried out in alarm, and Desmond's jaw dropped. "What?!"

The angel pulled out a file, flipping through the pages. "There is a reason why Pieces of Eden are not meant to be handled by mortals, and that's exactly what you did."

"I just picked it up. I wasn't planning on it turning me into a half-dead ghost or something," Desmond told him.

"Touching is all that these artifacts require," Gabriel shot back at him.

Desmond grumbled. "Stupid weird vision."

He felt his ancestors stares on him, but mercifully Bayek spoke.

"What kind of artifact could have caused this?" he asked. His eyes widened. "You don't mean…?"

Amunet came to the same conclusion, and her face showed the horror that she felt. "You didn't."

Desmond felt small as he was subjugated under their accusing stares, and he took the Orb out of his hoodie.

Every single one of his ancestors looked at him in horror, and accusations were flung on to him.

"What were you thinking?"

"Casa stavi pensando?"

"How could you be so careless?"

"Qu'avez-vous fait?"

"Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"Do you have any idea what you have done?"

Desmond felt himself being backed into the office desk and cornered by his ancestors. Their eyes all glared into him accusingly. It felt like a repeat of the fight with his father, and that brought back all the fury and anger he pushed down earlier.

"Hey! I was minding my own business: packing things, running away- minding my own business," he repeated when he saw some of his ancestors start at the revelation of his runaway plans. "When I heard the voices and then my vision changed. They wouldn't shut up until I found the Orb. I didn't think this would happen!"

"Doesn't seem like you're the type to think before you act," Haytham said.

Desmond glared at him.

"Arguing over what happened won't fix this. We need to get Desmond and the Orb back to the Land of the Living as soon as possible," Amunet told them all. She turned to Gabriel.

The angel chuckled nervously. "Well, since it all seems to be a family matter, the way to undo the Orb's curse is to get your family's blessing."

"That's it? That simple?" Desmond asked. He had expected some whole expedition to get an ingredient for a potion or something.

"Get your family's blessing and everything should go back to normal," Gabriel explained.

"Should?" Arno asked.

The angel ignored him, continuing. "But you've got to get it done by the third sunrise."

"What happens on the third sunrise?" Desmond asked.

"Porca troia! Your hand Desmond!" Ezio exclaimed, pointing at Desmond's left hand.

Desmond looked and jumped in alarm. The tips of his fingers looked as if they were fading, becoming transparent. He bent them and ran his other hand to touch them and it went right through them. Desmond felt lightheaded, and his eyes rolled back. He felt an arm around his back, lifting him up, and gently slapping his cheeks.

"Whoa Lad, we can't have you fainting on us," Edward told him.

Desmond was given a minute to get his bearings before Gabriel continued. "There's nothing to worry about. Your family's here. You can get their blessing right now."

He got up and approached Altair. "A feather if you please, Sayidi."

Altair dug into his pouch and produced one.

The angel turned back to Desmond standing in between Bayek and Amunet. At Desmond's raised eyebrow he explained, "Your family has a penchant for feathers. It seems appropriate." He handed the father to Amunet. "Now, you look at the living, say his name, and 'I give you my blessing.' Simple as that."

"Desmond, I give you my blessing," Amunet said.

The feather glowed a bright gold. Amunet looked at Desmond like a stern mother. "I give you my blessing to go home, to put the Orb back where it is safe, and to never run away again."

"What?!" Desmond jerked back. He turned to Gabriel. "She can't do that!"

The angel grinned sheepishly. "Well, she can technically add any conditions she wants."

Desmond glared at his ancestor as she looked upon him smugly. He was so close. If he returned to his parents they would never let him leave the Farm. He would die an old man before they ever let him leave. Then again, how else could he get home?

"Fine," he growled.

"Now, you hand the feather to Desmond," Gabriel instructed.

Desmond reached out, a little nervous, the Orb of Eden in his other hand as he took the glowing feather from Amunet.

There was a bright flash, and Desmond's ancestors all disappeared, and he found himself back in the Vault. Desmond laughed in astonishment. He was back. Just to be certain, he climbed up the ladder, hit the switch that opened the door from the inside, and cautiously looked out. The sun was rising, but the barn looked deserted. No humans and no ghosts. The latter made Desmond really happy. He looked at his fingers, and seeing them real and solid, a giggle escaped him. He looked at the Orb in his hands, and a sly grin crept onto his face.

He jumped off the ladder, tossing the Orb up into the air and catching it.

"Goodbye Orb," he said, placing it down on the nearest table.

"Goodbye Farm," he said to the Vault.

"Goodbye Assassins and Templars. New York here I come."

With a grin, he closed his eyes and turned to the ladder, not seeing the flash until he ram right into Gabriel's desk with an oof.

Gabriel and Desmond's ancestors had all been about to leave the office when they had heard him, and turned back, surprised to see Desmond again and the Orb fall to the ground with a ding.

Desmond looked at them all in surprise, and grinned sheepishly.

Amunet, however, strode furiously at him, pointing a finger at his chest. "Not even two seconds, and you already break your promise."

"This isn't fair!" Desmond complained, pushing away from her. "It's my life. You all already had yours."

He picked up the feather he had touched earlier and turned to his other ancestors. "I ask for your guys' blessings."

Nobody moved.

"Anyone?" Desmond asked. Surely they weren't all scared of Amunet.

Bayek sighed. "Desmond, you may not see it right now, but it's best that you follow Amunet's instructions."

Desmond couldn't believe this. "Are you serious?! Do you have any idea what it's like back there? I go back, my parents will never let me leave"

"Perhaps it's for the best," Altair quietly said to him.

"No it's not!" Desmond yelled. "Do any of you have any idea what it's like being trapped in a place, knowing there's a whole wide world out there that I'll never get to see?"

All of his ancestors flinched as if visibly struck by Desmond's words. He had obviously hit a nerve they all shared, but before he could examine it further, Amunet spoke up. "Don't make this hard, Desmond. You go home my way or no way."

Desmond turned angrily at her. "You're that set on keeping me a prisoner?"

"I will not let you go down the same path as so many," she told him, her hazel narrowed fiercely at him.

Desmond paused. The others? Of course. These people surely weren't his only ancestors. He had to have some who hadn't "finished their business", especially if his family tree spanded back thousands of years and further. There had to be.

"Listen to Amunet, Desmond," Evie said to him.

"She's just looking after you," Connor said.

"Let's be reasonable," Ezio said, placing a hand on Desmond's shoulder.

Desmond pulled away, backing towards the office door. "Excuse me, I… uh… need to use the restroom. Berightback," he quickly said, slipping out and slamming the door before anyone could object.

All the ancestors stared at the door, dumbstruck.

What just happened?

"Uh… should someone tell him there are no restrooms on the Other Side?" Arno asked.

Gabriel groaned, causing all of them to look back at the angel who had sat back down at his desk, his head buried in the numerous files as he muttered some kind of prayer for his sanity.

"You all are really going to fall for that?" he asked, looking up at them. "He's your descendant."

Realization struck them all simultaneously as they remembered they all would have done something like that in Desmond's shoes and had done.

Just like that, poor Gabriel was the witness to several curses in multiple languages before Altair shouted, "We've got a runner. Let's go!"

Then everyone hurried out of the office and after their wayward descendant.

Gabriel sighed, feeling all the millianeons he had worked this job as he looked up heavenward. "Only in this family."

000{{*}}000

In all his life, Desmond had never run with this much urgency and fear. There was more at stake than a training exercise. His freedom and his very life were at stake, and if even half the stories his parents had told him of past Assassins were true, hunting him down would just be a kid's game to his ancestors. He had to lose them somehow, and then he had to find out where his other ancestors were. There had to be a registry or records facility somewhere in this building.

He moved past desks where angels were busy typing away before hiding behind some weird looking plant. He dared to look back and saw all his ancestors come rushing out of Gabriel's office. He saw Bayek and Amunet issue out some kind of order, most likely a strategy in how to find him.

He had to lose them, and he had to do it fast.

The exit was down a floor and there were a lot of obstacles in the way. He brought his hood up and carefully crept out of his hiding spot and followed a family, trying to blend in.

Bayek's eyes were busy scanning the office. There were hundreds of angels and ghosts throughout the room and plenty of hiding places for little Desmond to be in. he switched to Eagle Vision, and the world turned to gray with an assortment of colors. Most of the figures in the room were white while his family members were blue. He searched until he found the small figure in gold. Desmond.

"There!" he pointed.

Desmond turned his head, and saw his ancestors' eyes on him, and began to approach him.

Shit.

Forgoing his cover, Desmond ran, pushing through ghosts and angel workers. He knocked into an angel carrying stacks of files, scattering the papers up into the air. He ignored the shouts and yells thrown at him, and continued his run. He didn't need to look to see his ancestors. He could feel them gaining on him, and they weren't even panting like he was.

He was nearing the doorway which would lead him to the balcony in the department's entryway. If he could get down the stairs and through the doors without getting caught, he could disappear into the crowd of ghosts.

"Desmond stop!"

"Wait Desmond!"

He could hear his ancestors calling after him. They were getting closer. He made it through the doorway and on to the baloney when he felt a hand grab the end of his hoodie.

"That's enough, Desmond," Connor told him, but Desmond didn't stop. Even though Connor's hold slowed him down significantly, he kept pulling and made them bump into a couple talking. Connor was forced to let go, and Desmond took advantage of the moment. However, he had overestimated his speed and the grip Connor had on him that he hit the railing and fell forward.

He yelled in fear, and he heard every one of his ancestors scream out his name.

"DESMOND!"

It was like falling from the trees again, but this time there would be nothing to break his fall.

However, fortune seemed to favor him for now when he reached out and his hand grabbed on to a chandelier hanging nearby as he fell. It was a gaudy chandelier with probably every color of the rainbow in it, but to Desmond, he had never seen anything more beautiful before now. He clung on to it desperately with his hands, his body dangling like a worm on a hook over a lake of fish. Onlookers were watching him, gaping or screaming at his display.

The chandelier swung from the force of Desmond's fall that made Desmond's stomach go up to his throat. He spun around and could feel his grip slipping the longer he held on. If he fell there was a good chance he'd become a permanent resident on the Other Side. he tried to adjust his grip, but the swinging made it impossible, and the metal dug hard against his hands painfully. His hands slipped, and Desmond plummeted down.

He screamed.

He was going to die! For real!

But fate had other plans for him.

He landed in a pile of fabrics, the force knocking the wind out of him and pain shot from his upper back to his tailbone. While he tried to regain his breath, his mind raced to figure out what had just happened. Painfully, he looked up and saw a sign upside down from his angle that read, Lost Belongings. He had landed in a box full of lost clothing that had cushioned his fall.

Getting out of the box with a painful groan, Desmond looked and patted himself. He felt solid minus the tips of his fingers. Desmond couldn't believe it.

"I'm alive," he whispered. He whooped. "Still alive!"

He then remembered his audience all of a sudden.

Everyone on the ground stared at him in shock and alarm, especially at his proclamation.

"Whoops."

He looked up and saw all of his ancestors leaning over the railing, looking at him with surprise and bafflement in each of their expressions. He grinned at them and saluted before he took off towards the doors.

"'Hide in plain sight?' Arno asked, still stunned by what had just happened.

"I don't think that applies to Desmond," Ezio replied.

"He is definitely our descendant," Edward announced.

"Come on." Bayek jumped over the railing and landed with a solid thud on his feet. He was followed swiftly by the rest of his family members, and they all dashed after Desmond.

Desmond slipped through the front doors, catching the angel guards by surprise. Before they could do anything, the ancestors of the Miles Family crashed through the doors hitting the angels from the force.

The ancestors ignored them, their focus on finding and catching Desmond, but they had lost him. Desmond had disappeared into the crowds of thousands- millions of ghosts.

Amunet swore viciously, but her expression showed her fear and worry. "He is going to get himself killed!"

"What is he hoping to accomplish in this?" Evie asked, equally terrified.

"The sun is rising right now," Connor reminded them. "He has two days before he's stuck here."

"Shouldn't one of you have marked him so we could find him?" Haytham accused.

The Frye twins glared at him. "Like you could have done any better oh Grandmaster of the Templar Order?" Jacob shot at him.

"Well, you Assassins are always claiming to be the "superb hunters". I would have thought catching a thirteen-year-old would be a no-effort-needed kind of job for you."

"If you think you can do a better job at locating Desmond, why don't you give it a try?" Arno challenged him.

"What? Afraid the Templars will outshine you, and make Desmond want to join the us instead of your Creed?" Shay mocked.

"Watch it!" Altair growled.

"Let them, Altair. They'll give us an excuse to come at them. Better yet, why don't we settle this right now?" Ezio challenged, already extending his hidden blades.

"Enough!" Bayek shouted, silencing them. "You can argue later! Right now, we need to find our descendant, Desmond," he told them, reminding them all of the one thing they all shared together.

"How Bayek?" Amunet asked, gesturing towards the humongous crowds. "There are trillions of souls wandering the Other Side for thousands of years and the numbers keep increasing by the second. How are we going to find Desmond in all of this with just the eleven of us?"

"Not just us," Bayek reminded her. He turned to the rest of his family. "Most of the people we knew and trusted have moved on to the Afterlife, but not all, and there are fellow members of our Orders throughout the centuries who can help us. Find them, spread the word, and hope that we'll be able to find Desmond in time."

Everyone nodded, the very rare occasion both Templar and Assassin could come together and work towards a goal.

"Let's hope we find Desmond still alive and in one piece. The Other Side is bigger and more vast than the Living world. Who knows where Desmond will end up," Connor told them.

"Not to mention ghosts who will do God knows what to him if they find out he carries the Orb," Edward added.

Fear filled them all at that reminder. Their young descendant had no idea how much danger he was in.

000{{*}}000

Desmond had no idea where he was going. He couldn't tell if his ancestors were still following him, or if he had lost them. When he had left the office, his plan had been to escape the building, hide in the crowds, and then turn around, and go through the back door. Now, while he had been able to escape, he wasn't sure if he was lost or not. One thing was for certain, he had to stay low and that meant blending in which was hard. He had alarmed several people who had looked at him, and had nearly been caught a couple of times by a patrolling angel already. As long as he kept his hood up, his hands in his pockets, and his head down, nobody could see the healthy color on his skin that marked him as living.

He tried going down a path that seemed to go around the building he was trying to get back to when he stumbled into another building.

Hall of Memories was the sign above the entrance.

Huh. It looked to be in the way back to the Department, but it seemed interesting to Desmond. Why not?

He entered.

They didn't have television on the Farm, but Desmond had heard enough to know that it was basically an electronic box with a screen that showed moving pictures. That's kind of what Desmond saw as he moved around down the Hall. There were portraits hanging on walls that moved, and Desmond felt like this is what watching television would be like.

There were portraits dictating battles dating back hundreds of years, scientists making discoveries, leaders speaking out to crowds of people, and so much more. It was all so incredible to Desmond.

He slipped carefully through the crowds, making sure not to garner anybody's attention as he moved. Desmond supposed it was a little suspicious: a lone boy walking while everyone seemed to be with someone.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Desmond could feel his tiredness catching up. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep before this whole mess started when he first saw the Orb in the barn. Speaking of which, Desmond had hidden the Orb in one of his hoodie's pockets, and Altair's feather in the other. He would need the feather when he found an ancestor who would help him, and he would be a real dead boy if he returned home without the Orb.

Desmond needed a place to rest for at least a few minutes. Luckily, he found a spot on a bench where he could sit. Once he sat down, everything his body had been through in the last twenty-four hours seemed to catch up. The exercise the day before, being caught in the barn the first time, and the chase with his ancestors desmond wished he could take some painkillers, go to sleep, and wake to find that everything had just been a weird bad dream. He was half-tempted to fall asleep here on this bench, but the fear of being caught kept him up along with the fact that he only had two days before he was permanently stuck in this nightmare.

"Enjoying the story?" Desmond jumped from hearing the voice all of a sudden.

He turned his head to see a man in his thirties dressed in more modern clothes with a toboggan covering his hair down to his forehead, and the darkest eyes Desmond had ever seen. He turned to the moving portrait he was sitting in front of, and saw the title, Cain and Abel.

A young man stood over another man a little younger than himself, his brother, with a rock in his hand covered with blood.

"Uh… yes," Desmond answered hesitantly.

He continued to watch as Cain moved away from his brother and picked up a gold metal ball lying on the ground next to him.

"What sad irony," the stranger said. "It was that event that defined Cain for the rest of his life, and the one event everyone remembers him for. You could almost feel sorry for him."

"Sorry?" Desmond asked, bewildered and confused. Who was this man? He seemed so mysterious, yet Desmond couldn't tell if he was friend or foe. He didn't know how to use his vision to tell.

"I mean if things had played out differently, perhaps Cain would not have killed his brother, and be exiled from everything he knew," the stranger clarified.

"Who are you?" Desmond asked.

"You can call me Mason. Now, maybe you can tell me young man who you are, and what you're doing wandering the Other Side by yourself?"

Desmond hesitated. Should he trust this stranger with this kind of information? Then again, what was the harm in sharing a little information?

"Desmond, and I just recently died."

"'Died' huh? Well, then I would suggest going to the Next Life Department. The angels there will help you find any ancestors of yours who haven't moved to the Afterlife," Mason explained. He got up and motioned for Desmond to follow him. "Lucky for you, I know a guy in the Registry who can help you."

"Really?" Desmond asked, his exhaustion forgotten as he jumped up with renewed energy. "That would be awesome, but…" he hesitated. At a young age his father had instilled upon him to be wary of strangers. "Why are you helping me? You don't even know me."

The man chuckled. "Oh my young friend, you'll learn how different being dead is compared to the living. We're all in the same boat here on the Other Side, just waiting for our "unfinished business" to be… finished."

"And yours is helping new ghosts out?" Desmond asked, a little skeptical.

Mason shrugged. "Maybe. Only the top angels and our Heavenly Father truly know, but what's the harm? It's not like there's much to do here after being dead for so long."

Well, Desmond wasn't going to refuse his help if it meant getting out of here any quicker. He followed Mason out of the Hall, and he could see the Department building looming tall above the other buildings.

"So how did you die?" Mason asked.

Desmond panicked for a quick second before saying the first thing that came to mind. "Electrocution. I think."

Mason seemed to believe him, nodding his head. "Playing those new video games? I've been telling everyone that they're going to cause the downfall of this century's society."

"Uh… sure," Desmond agreed, not knowing what he was talking about.

Instead of going through the front door like Desmond had done earlier with his ancestor, Mason took him around behind in an alley where another door was hidden discreetly. Desmond followed him in a narrow hallway. While the entryway of the building seemed opened and glamorous, the hallway was dreary and closed. Up ahead, Desmond saw a ghost, not an angel, arranging piles of papers and organizing them into files on a long desk. The room they were in was cramped with piles of files stacked high, kind of like it had been in Gabriel's office.

"Ah, Herod, my old friend," Mason greated.

The man was in his late thirties or early forties with a bushy beard who jumped at the sound of Mason's voice. "God and Heaven, do not scare me like that!" Herod exclaimed.

"Apologies old friend. You see, I have a friend here in need of your assistance," Mason said, motioning to Desmond. "He's looking for members of his family, and I thought who better than yourself since you are such an export in this."

Herod looked down at Desmond.

Desmond tried to keep his head down without looking suspicious, hoping that his hood would hide the fact that he wasn't actually dead, but Herod's gaze was locked on the hidden blade still tied on his arm. His eyes widened a fraction, and Desmond thought he saw terror in them, but it was gone in a second like it hadn't existed.

"Of course, I can help you find members of your family who are still here on the Other Side. Just give me names of your current family name and we'll go from there," Herod said in a tone of voice that seemed eager to help compared to the terror Desmond had seen.

"Actually," he spoke up. "Could you just point me to the group of files and let me look for their names myself?"

If they stumbled upon the ancestors Desmond was hiding from, Mason and Herod might just take him to them, and he would be right where he started, maybe worse.

Herod was taken aback by his request. "Uh, well that depends. Have members of your family died recently within the last twenty-four hours?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Desmond answered.

"Then you should follow me?" Herod said, moving away from his work.

"But what about…?" Desmond motioned around the room.

"Oh, these? These are files of people who have died within the last couple of hours," Herod answered.

He walked down the hall, knocked on a door, and opened it.

Desmond's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

"This is where all the files of every person who has ever died are kept," Herod explained.

Desmond couldn't believe what he was seeing. He was standing on a balcony overlooking shelves of files that had to be hundreds of feet tall and stretching out back even longer. When Desmond tried to look for the end of them, he couldn't find it. It just kept going on and on like there was no end.

"Good luck," Herod said, slapping Desmond on the shoulder. "And don't get caught by any of the assistant angels."

"Wha-?" Desmond tried to ask, but Herod was gone, as was Mason.

He turned back to all the files, and could feel all his hopes about finding his other ancestors beginning to sink. Forget the two days Desmond had. It would take him two lifetimes to find anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I kind of gave Desmond more days to spend time with his family compared to the movie where the kid had only the night to get his family's blessing. I hope I've kept the ancestors in character. I mean as master Assassins (and Templars) it's understandably possible to underestimate a thirteen-year-old right? And yes to the one viewer we are going to see other Assassins and Templars. However, it's been centuries since they've died and a lot of people have been moving on during that time which is the reason why the ancestors want to get on that ferry so bad. As to how Arno and the Frye twins are related to Desmond, I'm going to try and explain that in the next chapter.
> 
> Please review and tell me what you guys think. :-)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that some if not a lot of you are wondering how all of Desmond's ancestors are related to him and how they're all related to one another. Well, this chapter will explain how, but it won't go into depth over their stories. At least not yet. So everybody prepare for a genealogy lesson on Desmond's family tree (or at least my version of it). I hope you guys like it.
> 
> Enjoy and thank you guys so much :-)

Chapter 5

Bayek would be the first to admit that there were reservations of old Assassins and Templars meeting together at the same time. Even after centuries the raging fire of animosity still burned fiercely between the two orders. However, it was times like these both Assassins and Templars could develop a truce to work towards a goal. After all, the Miles family wasn't the only one with Assassins and Templars mixed in it. That, and it also helped that they couldn't kill each other twice unless they tried throwing each other into the River Styx that flowed down the Other Side.

They had all agreed to meet at the Eternal Paradise, a pub Shay had commented reminded him of his wife's back in the day. Ghosts from different eras loved to gather there and reminisce about the good old days. They couldn't get drunk, but that didn't stop anyone from trying.

Bayek, however, couldn't think about drinking, his focus was on the "allies" his family members had gathered. Many of them were Assassins, some were Templars, and a few were either turncoats or those who had left their respective Orders.

The Frye twins had brought in their former mentor, George Westhouse, and Evie's parents-in-law, Arbaaz Mir and Princess Pyara Kaur.

Arno had brought in Aguilar de Nerha and his lover Maria, Assassins from 15th century Spain whom Bayek and the rest of his family discovered shared a couple of descendants with Arno.

Shay had brought in his former comrade, Colonel George Monroe, a Templar Bayek and even Amunet could tolerate.

Edward, to everybody's surprise, had managed to bring in Duncan Walpole, a former Assassin turned Templar for profit, and who ironically Edward had killed himself. Although Walpole looked as if he wanted to chuck Edward into the Styx river, he was smart enough to know the entire Miles clan would be on his ass.

Connor had brought in mid-18th century Loisianan Assassin Aveline de Grandpre, an old friend of his.

To add even more tension to the party, Haytham had brought former Assassin turned Templar Baptiste, a voodoo poisoner Aveline had killed in her time. The tension and glares the two of them threw at each other actually made Bayek question if they had been wise to invite each other's enemies together. After all, the Eternal Paradise was a fine establishment, and the patrons would not tolerate any interruptions on their reminiscence.

Ezio, mercifully brought in two fellow Assassins he had known in his time: Yusuf Tazim from his time in Constianopole, and Shao Yun whom he had mentored to help rebuild the Assassin Order in China.

And lastly, Altair came with Nikolai Orelev, a former Russian very last one made Bayek tense with caution and suspicion. As ghosts their souls were connected with their descendants, allowing them to move around the world and see its changes, and if you didn't have any, you were only connected to the place you had died in. In all their knowing of one another, Bayek had never seen Nikolai in the Living World until the latter's descendant, Daniel Cross had stumbled onto the Farm where Bayek's descendants had been living for the past couple of decades. The young Cross had seemed mad, spouting off in Russian, and believing himself to be his ancestor at random times. It had chilled Bayek to the bone every time the young man would come near Desmond. His descendant Elizabeth and her husband were right to be cautious around Daniel Cross. As much as Bayek respected Nikolai, he did not trust the man's descendant.

There were several other Assassins and a few Templars Haytham and Shay claimed to be trustworthy.

Bayek had left Amunet and the rest of his family to explain the situation with their "allies" while he stood outside on the pub's roof, and looked on the city of the Other Side. His wife had been right when she said that there were trillions of souls wandering the Other Side. Over the centuries buildings had been built reflecting their era and culture. In the past two thousand years since his death, Bayek has seen many changes happen in the world, and so many souls move on to the Afterlife. Every time Bayek and Amunet had tried to board the Ferry, they were met with resistance because they still had "unfinished business" to be done, but no inkling as to what that unfinished business was. So they had spent the next several centuries trying to discover what that unfinished business was while also keeping an eye on their descendants as they grew up, fought their battles, created families, and then died and moved on to the Other Side.

It had been wonderful at first: meeting their descendants, talking to them, and being together until they would move on to the Afterlife. A lot of times, Bayek and Amunet would barely have time to introduce themselves and talk to their newly arrived descendants before the angels would sweep them away, telling them that their unfinished business had already been completed, and that they could board the Ferry that would take them to the Afterlife where the people they had actually known in life were waiting for them. After so long, Bayek and Amunet had tried not to become attached to their descendants who would enter the Other Side only to board the Ferry and leave them. It worked like that until Altair entered their lives. Most of the people in his life had already moved on to the Afterlife, leaving Altair no one but the ancient Egyptian couple as his only company. Bayek and Amunet knew that their descendants had immigrated to Syria over the centuries. They had been hesitant to get attached before they realized that Altair wouldn't be boarding the Ferry anytime soon like them. As the centuries went by more people entered their group: Ezio, the Kenways, Shay, Arno, and the Frye twins. Bayek and Amunet were no longer alone as they had been those first few centuries.

Altair was like the eldest son, eager to learn and look after the others.

Ezio was a little like Altair, except more carefree that it sometimes annoyed Amunet but amused Bayek.

The Kenways… Bayek stopped counting how many disputes he and the others had to break up. Edward loved causing trouble, and Haytham and Connor could barely have a simple conversation without it turning into some kind of argument. It had been hard at first to get along with Haytham and Shay, but Bayek and Amunet were always reminded that they were nothing like their earlier predecessors, the Ancient Ones who murdered their son, destroyed their homeland, and killed their friends. They actually cared about the people and society unlike most Templars the Assassins in their complicated family had faced. Connor made Bayek think of a lost boy longing for home, which was probably why they had bonded upon meeting instantly.

Arno was kind of similar: losing everyone he had ever loved at a young age, and losing his way many times, but finding it again. Of course, when he had entered the Other Side and discovered that it had been Shay who had killed his father Charles Dorian, he had tried to kill him a second time. It had taken the whole family to separate them and prevent them from throwing each other into the Styx River. It took decades before they could finally be within a ten foot radius without swinging at each other.

Finally, the Frye twins Evie and Jacob, the "babies" of the family. When they first came, Evie had been filled with childlike adoration for everyone, Amunet especially, and Jacob had instantly become a crime partner with Ezio and Edward.

At times Bayek couldn't believe he had such a family. After losing Khemu, and him and Amunet going their separate ways, Bayek had lost hope of ever having a family of his own, and now look: his and Amunet's "family" ranged to almost a dozen members, and their descendant from the 21st century was lost somewhere on the Other Side.

He heard footsteps sounding on the rooftop behind him, and realized that his family had completed their meeting with the other Assassins and Templars.

"How did it go?"

"Better than you would have expected," Shay answered.

"They all agreed to make discreet inquiries into Desmond's whereabouts, but we were forced to reveal about the Orb," Amunet explained.

Bayek turned around and looked at them all in alarm. Did his entire family, including his wife go mad in his absence?

Altair calmed him. "We made sure that everyone would make their inquiries in groups of two or three to ensure that nobody would try and pull something."

That calmed Bayek only slightly. The Orb's power was a big temptation for all ghosts, Templar or Assassin. You truly didn't know if your closest ally could resist such temptation or not.

"It's still going to take a while to locate Desmond. You'd honestly be surprised by how many thirteen-year-old boys there are wandering around the Other Side without any family," Edward said.

"But only one of them is still alive," Bayek reminded them.

"So while we were down below, making Templars and Assassins work together for the first time in centuries, what were you doing?" Jacob asked in a tone that sounded almost accusingly.

Bayek grinned mysteriously. "I had an old friend who is as we speak looking into Desmond's whereabouts."

The members of the Miles family, except Amunet all exchanged confused glances when a cry went out, causing them all to look up, and see the culprit: a Bonelli eagle flying down towards them with something in its claws. It opened them as she neared towards the family of Assassins and Templars, dropping the object she had been carrying. Connor caught it as the bird landed and rested on Bayek's awaiting arm. The ancestors all gathered around Connor as he looked at it.

"It's a compass," Connor realized as he inspected it. Edward and Shay pressed closer since they along with Connor were the most familiar with such an object.

Edward took it for a closer inspection. "Handmade solid brass. In very good condition, but has seen a lot of use. Definitely 20th century made."

Shay took it next, flipping it over. "There's an inscription: 1998, Mark Bronston." He looked up. "Like one of the boys on the Farm."

Connor nodded in agreement. "Desmond mentioned about running away from the Farm. He would need something like a compass to help him navigate through the forest."

"It must have fallen from his pocket as he was running," Evie realized.

Bayek took the compass into his free hand. "Excellent work, Senu! Now, show us where you found it."

The eagle flew with an answering cry, leading the ancestors of Desmond Miles to his location.

000{{*}}000

Elizabeth Miles woke with a startled gasp.

Desmond! Her mind screamed.

For a split second she wanted to go upstairs, check in his room to see him sleeping in his bed, and find that last night had just been a huge nightmare, until reality slammed into her hard. Her son was missing, the bag he had packed had been found without him, and the Orb of Eden had disappeared as well. After inspecting the vault, William had ordered the Assassins to fan out and continue searching for Desmond and keep an eye out for the Orb. He had started calling Assassins throughout the Brotherhood to keep an eye out as well. Elizabeth had searched through Desmond's bag, hoping to find clues as to where Desmond could have gone. She had no idea as to where the Orb could have taken Desmond, but it was a start. She had found a map, a notebook, and a journal.

She must have somehow fallen asleep as she was looking through them last night in their living room. Bill also must have checked on her if the blanket she found on her was any indication. She still felt exhausted, but was awake now with the sun shining into their house. It must be nine or ten in the morning.

She looked down at the coffee table where Desmond's belongings were and realized that she was holding onto Desmond's old teddy bear Rocky. She must have grabbed it sometime during the night without even realizing it. She could remember how she and William had gotten it right after Desmond had been born.

It had been one of the only times they had gone out in public as a family. Technology was becoming more advanced, and it was getting harder to hide from the Templars. Her old friend Mary Lynch had died mere moments before Abstergo agents had invaded her home, and captured her husband, their son Callum missing. That had been only a few months before Desmond had been born.

Elizabeth had been at a park, sitting on a bench with a one-month-old Desmond sleeping in her arms. It had been a nice spring day with children running around, screaming, and laughing with delight as they played games, climbed the jungle gyms, and swinged on the swing sets as their mothers looked on. It was a beautiful scene, but Elizabeth Miles had been stiffed with tension, her eyes scanning the playground for anything suspicious, and holding onto Desmond as if any minute someone would try to snatch him before she could blink. William had gone to meet with an associate for just a few minutes, leaving Elizabeth by herself with Desmond. She was ready to jump and run with Desmond in her arms, and use her hidden blade if it came to that. She had nearly jumped out of her skin and engaged her blade when a woman sat down next to her, holding a screaming toddler, and yelling at two boys to stay where she could see them as they raced over to the slide. Once she had calmed down the toddler, she turned and smiled at Elizabeth. She asked if Elizabeth was a new mother, and commented that she seemed as if she was afraid the children would turn into wolves and devour her from the way she was looking at them.

"I just don't feel comfortable taking my son out in public yet," Elizabeth had told her, telling half the truth. The woman had smiled in understanding, and said that after her firstborn it took months before she allowed anyone other than her husband and mother to hold him, and gave Elizabeth one of the stuffed bears she had in her bag, saying that her kids had plenty of them at home. She was just being nice, but Elizabeth had made William check and double check to make sure that there was no hidden device in it before allowing Desmond to have it. She had once heard a story about an Assassin who had taken her five-year-old daughter to a breakfast diner. Their waitress had been a Templar agent who had slipped a tracking device into the little girl's pancakes. Later that day, Abstergo agents invaded the cabin they were staying in, killed the mother and three other Assassins, and took the girl. The bear turned out to be harmless and Desmond loved it.

Tears began to blur Elizabeth's eyes as she held the stuffed bear to her chest. She was living every parent's worst nightmare: not knowing where your child is. It was ten times worse as an Assassin. The chances of being found by a Templar and being killed were incredibly high.

She wiped her eyes and noticed that Desmond'sjournal was missing. Her heart stopped, but she forced herself not to panic. She got up and looked around.

She heard William's voice coming from his office, and sounded furious. She headed towards it.  
"I don't care what you have to do! Just send them over!" William Miles yelled into the satellite phone before ending the call and slamming it on his desk.

Elizabeth noticed Desmond's journal laying on the desk, but her eyes were on her husband. He was still in his clothes from yesterday, his hair was askew, and Elizabeth noticed two empty mugs on his desk and smelled coffee. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all last night since they left the vault.

William ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I have Parker and Jim at the town waiting for Desmond in case he shows up, and everybody else searching the forest."

That didn't bring any relief to Elizabeth. "I don't believe Desmond's lost in the forest. I kept having nightmares that the Orb sent Desmond to so many places." She dreamed of the middle of the ocean, a Templar's headquarters, or another dimension.

"I called the Assassins who found the Orb in the first place. After sending the Orb away, they found ancient records telling how Bayek and Amunet found it and its powers. I told them to send copies of their translations," William assured her.

Elizabeth didn't ask how he planned to get the copies in so fast. She wanted to yell and scream at him, tell him it was his fault that Desmond ran away and was missing. But then her eyes flickered to Desmond's journal then back on her husband. He had caught her glancing at it, and his eyes were stuck looking at the journal where all their son's dreams and secrets were kept. Elizabeth felt her anger deflate as she saw the raw and naked emotion in William's eyes, and knew that he had been punishing himself with his own fear and guilt. She wasn't the only one living in this nightmare. He too feared for their son's life. He too blamed himself for Desmond missing. For the first time in a long time, Elizabeth didn't see William Miles, the Master Assassin, but her husband and the father of her son.

She moved around his desk to stand right in front of him, and cupped his face in her hands. "We're going to find him."

Liquid appeared in his eyes, and Elizabeth found her arms around him, and his around her. A sob escaped Elizabeth as she clung to William, and she prayed to whomever was out there to bring their son home, alive, and safe.

000{{*}}000

He was chasing the bird again. Desmond didn't know why. It looked to be some kind of hawk, and for some reason, demond felt this urgency to follow it.

Why? Where was it leading him?

Desmond couldn't see anything but the bird he was following. He felt like he had been chasing it for a long time until he saw the edge of his path, but the bird continued on. Normally, Desmond would stop right when he reached the end, but this time he was going too fast to stop himself in time. He fell down into the dark abyss below him. Desmond felt his heart coming up and he opened his mouth to scream-

Desmond jerked himself awake with a small cry, sitting up from his former lying position, and knocking whatever had been on his lap onto the ground. For a split second he panicked, not recognizing his surroundings until he remembered: he had tried to run away from the Farm, but then the Orb of Eden had transported him into some ghost world, he met his ancestors who had been dead for centuries and were either Assassins or Templars, and he was now on the run from them, looking for his other ancestors to help him back into the World of the Living. Oh, and he had two days before he ended up as a permanent ghost.

At that last thought, Desmond looked down at his hands, and to his shock and horror, the fingers on both of his hands were transparent. He could move them and lift things, but he couldn't feel them. How long had he been sleeping?

He heard the chiming of a clock, and climbed out of his hiding spot (an abandoned desk), and looked at the giant clock that resembled Big Ben from the pictures he's seen in the center of the records room. On the clock the time said 12:00 p.m.

It was noon! Desmond had been sleeping for that long?!

He was now fully awake. He had to keep looking for his ancestors. He went back to his hiding spot and gathered up all the papers he had found on his family history.

After Mason and Herod left him, Desmond had started his search for his family records. It actually hadn't been difficult to find his family records as he'd thought it'd be. There was a chair you sat in. It had a keyboard and when you typed in a name it immediately took you to the shelf, the section, and the book that held all the names and records of your family. Desmond had been amazed at the size of his family's book, but then again his family dated back thousands of years. He had a lot of ancestors. The book had been the size of his torso, and about a foot thick, and it had been heavier than anything Desmond had ever carried. Somehow though, he managed to carry it, and found a hiding spot. Herod had warned about assistant angels, and Desmond discovered what he had meant. There were dozens of angels fluttering from shelf to shelf, filing paper into books, and angels at desks recording and arranging paperwork. Desmond had managed to find an abandoned desk towards the back of the section where he wouldn't be disturbed and caught. There were ghosts working and assisting the angels, but if anybody looked closer at Desmond they would have noticed that he wasn't an actual ghost.

Not yet a voice grimly told Desmond. Once he had found his hiding spot, Desmond had instantly set to work looking for any other ancestors who hadn't moved on to the Afterlife yet.

He had started on his father's side of the family and worked his way up.

His grandfather, Samuel Miles had been born in 1918 somewhere in South Dakota, and died in Cuba 1962 from a knife wound. Desmond did the math in his head. His father had been born in 1948 which would have made him fourteen, just a little older than Desmond was right now when his own father died. The records in the family book pretty much just told who Desmond was related to and how, when and where they were born and died, and how they died, and if they'd finished their unfinished business or not. According to the records his grandfather's unfinished business was finished in 1980, the year his parents married.

The more Desmond read the more fascinated he became.

The Miles family seemed to have been living in the South Dakota area for over a hundred years, going back to England where they had lived since the 1000s. Most of them seemed to die by the blade or sword with the rest dying through natural causes.

Desmond discovered how he was related to his ancestor Ezio. Although he had been born and had died in Florence, Italy, Ezio's daughter Flavia Auditore had moved to England possibly around the time she married James Miles in 1536, had children, and died in 1563 from a brain tumor. Desmond looked more into the Auditore family. Ezio's father and two brothers were all hanged in Florence, 1476, his Uncle Mario in Monteriggioni, 1500 by gunshot, and his mother Maria in Rome, 1507 from Alzheimers, and they all moved on into the Afterlife in 1513. Desmond looked further. Ezio's sister Claudia died of natural causes in 1539 in Rome, his wife Sofia from kidney failure in 1533 in Florence, and his son Marcello in 1574 from lung infection in Nice, France, and all of them, including Flavia moved on to the Afterlife the moment they died. Ezio was the only member in Desmond's grandfather's side not to have moved on to the Afterlife. Desmond had been shocked and disappointed at that.

He had then moved on to his father's mother's side, Jeanne Eder-Miles. She had been to an American, Lyra Quinn, and Austrian born Georg Eder in Paris, France 1922, and had died in Kuntsevo, Russia, 1953 from a gunshot. Like his grandfather, Desmond's grandmother had moved on to the Afterlife in 1980. He couldn't find anything on his great-grandfather's side who died in 1944 somewhere in Germany, but on his great-grandmother's he discovered how he was related to Shay Cormac and the Kenways.

He traced his great-grandmother to Io:nhiote or Iris Kenway, born at Davenport Homestead, 1788, married to George Quinn, mother to only one surviving child, and died in Boston, Massachusetts, 1868 of natural causes. Desmond had looked to see that she had two older siblings: Kahsemenhawe or Ava Rose Kenway, born 1783, and Tekaronhio:ken or Dorian Achilles Kenway, born 1784 who both died in 1812 by gunshot. Her mother, Catherine Cormac-Kenway, Connor's wife and Shay's daughter died in New Orleans, 1815 by hidden blade. All three of them had moved on later in 1815. Desmond kept looking. Connor's mother Kaniehti:io had died in Mohawk Valley, 1760 by fire and moved on in 1782. Desmond tried to read further into his Native American heritage but grew frustrated when he realized that they had all moved on into the afterlife.

The same was said for the Kenways. Haytham's mother, Tessa Stephenson-Oakley moved on in 1781, shortly after Haytham's death. His half-sister Jennifer Scott moved on in 1805 right after her own death. Edward's own parents moved on in 1735 right after his own death. Desmond couldn't find anything else on the Kenways, so he moved back to Shay Cormac. Like the Kenways, Shay's own family had been small. His wife Rose O'Brien and her brother Liam had both moved on after 1782, and his own parents in 1760.

Those had been the last things Desmond could remember reading before he fell asleep. Now that he was awake, Desmond returned to his book with renewed urgency. If his life wasn't at risk, Desmond might actually enjoy looking through his family tree. Then again, maybe not. He always used to frustrate his mother in his disinterest in learning the history of the Assassin's Creed. Just goes to show that he came from a family of killers and nutjobs.

He started going through his mother's family tree. His mother had once told him that her maiden name used to be Bransky. Unlike the rest of the Assassins' history, his mother rarely spoke about her own family, just like his father barely spoke about his own. She had told him that her parents and younger sister had all died before he had been born. She used to tell him stories when he was younger: how her sister loved cats, her mother who despite being able to throw the most painful punches had the gentlest smile, and her father who could sing the most beautiful songs.

Desmond looked up her family history in the book.

His aunt had been Keren Bransky, born in Miami, Florida, 1960, and died in New Delhi, India, 1984. His grandmother had been Nora Crowder, born in Crawley, England, 1923, and had died in London, 1986 by a hidden blade. Almost a year before Desmond had been born. That sent a cold feeling through him. Both his aunt and grandmother had moved on in 1987, the year of his birth.

His grandmother had two older brothers: Henry Crowder, born in 1919, and Jacob Crowder born in 1921 in Crawley the same as their sister. Henry had died somewhere north of France in 1941 by plane crash. Jacob died in Berlin, Germany, 1944 by gunshot. Both of them had died during WWII, Desmond realized. He continued reading. The brother moved on to the Afterlife in 1945 when the war ended. Their father had been Sam Crowder, born in London, 1892, and had also died in that same city in 1952 by heart attack. His wife, and Desmond's great-grandmother was Lydia Frye.

Desmond's eyes widened as he realized how he was related to the Frye twins. Lydia had been born in Crawley, 1893 and had died in a village in Sicily, 1969 of natural causes. Both she and her husband had moved on when they passed away. Lydia's parents had been Emmett and Alexandra Frye. Both of them, Desmond discovered, died on the Titanic in 1912 by hyperthermia. Lydia had also had an uncle, Harry Frye, born in London, 1875, but died in Picardy, 1916. They all moved on in 1918 at the end of WWI.

Desmond reached Jacob and Evie Frye. Jacob had been married to a woman who had been born Elena Starrick, but had changed her name to Elena Reed, born in London, 1848 and had died there in 1908 by gunshot, and moved on in 1918 with her sons and daughter-in-law as well. Out of curiosity, Desmond looked up Evie to see that she had married Jayadeep Mir or Henry Green in 1868 until his death in 1883 by tuberculosis. They had three children all born in Amritsar: Maria in 1870, and Cecily and Serafina in 1880. The twin girls died in 1890 from Abrin poisoning, and from there moved on into the Afterlife with their father. Maria died in 1901 through childbirth and moved on shortly afterward.

Jacob and Evie's father Ethan Frye, Desmond discovered, was descended through a long line of Assassins, but just like his other ancestors, they too had all moved on. He turned to their mother Cecily Davies-Frye, born in Rhondda Valley, 1824, but died in Crawley 1847 by childbirth and moved on in 1868. Her father had been Alan Davies, born in Tenby, Wales, 1784, and died in 1835 from smallpox in Rhondda Valley, and moved on in 1854. Her mother had been Juliette Dorian, and Desmond discovered that she was Arno's daughter. She was born in Saint-Cye, France, 1788. Desmond also discovered that she had an illegitimate son Edmund born in Paris, 1808 who immigrated to America at some point in his life if the location of his death was correct. Juliette died in 1860 of natural causes in Crawley and moved in 1868.

Desmond looked further to discover that her mother had been Elise de la Serre, possibly Arno's lover since they weren't labeled married on the records. She had been born in Versailles, France, 1768, and died in Paris, 1794 by being crushed by debris, but moved on later that same year. Desmond looked further into her family, discovering that it dated back three hundred years before her death, and that everyone had moved on. He continued his search through Arno, discovering that his father, Charles Dorian had dien in Versailles, 1776 by hidden blade and had moved on in the year 1794, and that his mother Marie Dorian died in Saint-Denis, France 1810, and moved on after her death. He looked further discovering that he had Japanese and Taiwanese in his heritage as well, but luck in finding ancestors that hadn't moved on.

He then tried his grandfather's side, Gideon Bransky. He had been born in Warsaw, Poland, 1914, and died in San Diego, 1972 by gunshot, and had moved on in 1980. Desmond suddenly remembered his mother one time mentioning that her father had been Jewish, and remembered the history lesson he actually paid attention to. Gideon had been the second son of five children all born in Warsaw. His older brother, Benjamin, born 1913 had been married with a son and a child on the way. In 1941, the son was shot at eight years old, and his wife died in childbirth along with the baby. Gideon's sister Keren, born 1917, died by fire in Warsaw, 1944. Gideon's two younger brothers: Chaim, born 1928 and Levi born 1930, both died in Warsaw Ghetto along with their parents Matar and Chaya Bransky in 1942 by bullets. They, along with Keren, moved on in 1945 when the war ended. Gideon's brother Benjamin never remarried, and died in Peru, 1974.

As Desmond looked further into the Bransky family, he wondered if they hadn't been Assassins before WWII because most of them had died of natural causes since the 1300s. As he looked further, he found his ancestor Altair. It took him a minute to remember his last name, Ibn-La'Ahad. Desmond discovered that his son Sef and his wife Maria had moved on in 1247, and his son Darim moved on right after his own death in Egypt, 1267 of natural causes. Altair's father Umar who had died in 1176 by execution, and his mother Maude who died in 1165 by childbirth had both moved on in 1191.

He kept looking further and further until he reached Bayek and Amunet. Bayek, Desmond discovered, came from a long line of Egyptian warriors (Desmond couldn't remember the name his mother called them… Oh, yeah, Medjai), and he had died in Siwa, 20 BCE by the sword. Amunet's real name, Desmond found out, had been Aya, and she died in Siwa 19 BCE of natural causes. They had a son, Khemu of Siwa, born in 56 BCE and died in 49 BCE by a stab wound. A year after his death, a daughter was born in Alexandria: Bennu, and she married Madu who's real name had been Caesarion, son of Julius Caesar and Queen Cleopatra. Desmond hit his head off the desk as he sat up real quick in surprise.  
No freaking way!

That orb had to have electrocuted his brain into believing what he was seeing, but no. It was written that they married in 25 BCE, had children, and that Madu died in Jerusalem, 23 AD from a seizure, and that Bennu died in Alexandria, 44 AD of natural causes. They both moved on in 476 AD.

Desmond was growing frustrated. Bayek, Amunet, Altair, Ezio, the Kenways, Shay, Arno, and the Frye twins could not be the only ancestors he had that haven't moved on to the Afterlife. They couldn't be. He just had to look deeper. But when he tried looking further into the book's papers, a shadow blocked what little light he had in his hiding place.

He slowly looked up as dread began to fill him. He saw white robes, a hidden blade gauntlet, and a hood.

Desmond gulped. He was in serious trouble.

000{{*}}000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who has found Desmond?
> 
> I know this chapter is longer than my usual ones. I hadn't planned on it, but there was so much I wanted to put in this and I think after all of you waiting so patiently these past few months you all deserved this. So what's you guys think of it. The ancestors' banter? Desmond's mother? Desmond finding more about his family tree? Not going to lie, but I had fun writing about that last one. I always found family trees fascinating. Seeing who is related to who and what they all did. I know I've thrown you guys over how I've related everybody in Desmond's family. For Desmond's grandparents I've been reading a lot of books about WWII and the Holocaust and watched videos. Nora Crowder is based off of this character I read in Danielle Steel's "Spy". Gideon Bransky was inspired by the books on the Holocaust and the movie Defiance that I've recently watched. I might talk more about them along with Samuel Miles and Jeanne Eder in the story if you guys wish. As for the Frye twins being Arno and Elise's great-grandchildren, I tried figuring out how to make them related to Desmond's family when the idea just popped in and there was no way I was letting it go. As for Bayek and Amunet having a daughter so soon after losing Khemu… in my version Aya was pregnant but didn't realize it until after Khemu was killed and Bayek left to seek his revenge. Aya went to Alexandria to prepare for her birth and continue her studies, but when she went into labor, the midwife (hired by the Ancients) stole the child and told Aya that it had been stillborn. When Bennu was six years old, the family that had been watching over died and she was on her own. Over the years she made her way into the Hidden Ones, where she met and was trained by Bayek for a few years before she met and fell in love with Madu. For those of you who've read the comics, Cleopatra had agreed to take her own life if Amunet promised to take her son Caesarion and train him to be a Hidden One. Amunet recognized Bennu and the family was reunited for a few short but happy years before Bayek and Amunet died.
> 
> If any of you are confused about the Miles family tree (my version at least) and need clarification just let me know and I'll try to explain it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the next chapter. Not going to lie but I had some struggles at first in writing but the more I wrote the easier it came.

Chapter 6

Altair couldn't remember the children in his age being this...troublesome.

Of course, even children of Assassins tended to get into mischief from time to time. His son Sef had been the better behaved child while his older son Darim had been the one to get into trouble. Even Altair had gotten into his own fair share of mischief before he had been forced to grow up at a young age. Still, Altair didn't believe there had ever been a child that caused as much trouble as Desmond Miles did.

Arranging the truce between centuries old Assassins and Templars had been the most painful awkwardness Altair had ever had to endure in his whole existence. Getting them to help find Desmond had been just as difficult not only because of the megaannum old hostility between the two orders, but because of recent events happening in the Living World. Rumors went that modern day Templars were planning something. Something big. They were hunting down descendants of Assassins and Templars and placing them into some kind of machine called an Animus that would allow the modern day Templars to look into the memories of their ancestors that had been dead for centuries. Such technology frightened and horrified Altair and his family to where even Haytham was disgusted by his former brethren. To have their most precious secrets and memories exploited was a violation Altair never would have thought possible even after all the years he had spent studying the Apple of Eden. then once the Templars had gotten what they had wanted, the descendant would either die from the strain the machine put them through or be driven to madness. Such methods frightened both Assassins and Templars and made them worry for their descendants.

Unlike the rest of his family, Altair's descendants were so few and the ones he had remained hidden from the Templars for their own safety. Most of his descendants had been killed in the Holocaust during WWII with only a handful of them surviving. So no, Altair couldn't blame his "allies" for worrying about their own descendants before Desmond. If the Orb of Eden hadn't been told to them, he doubted they would have gotten much help.

After Bayek's bird friend, Senu had shown them the compass, the Miles clan had followed her to the path leading into the building where the records of all the spirits from the Other Side were kept.

"You've got to be f***ing kidding me!" Edward had exclaimed.

Everybody had silently shared the same thought. Did the boy know nothing about how to stay out of trouble?

Bayek turned to them all. "Alright, we split up and fan out. Hopefully we will catch Desmond before any of the angels do."

And that's how Altair ended up searching the halls of the building with Ezio. If he was going to be honest, Altair preferred Ezio to everybody else. Aside from Bayek and Amunet, he had known Ezio longer than anybody else. After almost five hundred years they knew each other they now knew each other so well.

They snuck through the halls with an ease that came from years of experience, making sure not to be spotted by any passing ghost or Angel. Most of the inhabitants were Angels, but the ghosts wouldn't hesitate to raise the alarm on the Assassins. The ghosts who assisted the Angels had been people who had done horrible crimes while they had been alive, and now served the Angels as penintence until they would earn the right to board the Ferry and move on to the Afterlife. Since he came to the Other Side, Altair had hardly ever seen a ghost earn their passage. The few he had seen had been repenting since the time of Adam and Eve. even if they were closely monitored by the Angels, the thought of his descendant by himself around these spirits unnerved Altair to the core.

"How did he find his way here?" he heard Ezio mutter to himself. And without getting caught? They both knew that Desmond would want to find ancestors who would send him back without conditions. That would mean trying to find out what ancestors he had that hadn't moved on yet.

Altair and Ezio followed their instincts to where the Angels would keep their records until they found the door using their Eagle Vision. The two Assassins weren't as shaken as their descendant had been upon seeing the endless rows of files, but they were still amazed by the sight. They saw Angels fluttering about, and ghosts assisting them, and quickly hid behind one of the shelves to avoid being seen. In silent agreement, the two Assassins carefully snuck around to avoid detection. Through the shelves, Altair could see ghosts placing piles of papers into books before setting them back onto the shelves under the watchful eyes of the Angels.

He felt a tug on his arm and realized that Ezio had stopped him. He glared at him fiercely and annoyingly, silently demanding why they had stopped.

"Is that who I think it is?" Ezio whispered only loud enough for Altair to hear him.

Altair followed his line of sight to see what had caught his attention. Or whom.

A woman with long golden hair and wearing a Greecian toga stood a few yards away from them as she piled papers onto a desk and organized them. Altair wanted to smack Ezio for letting a woman distract them from their mission, even if he himself had to admit that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his existence. He suddenly realized why Ezio had recognized her. He himself remembers seeing her image in the Hall of Memories. The woman who launched a thousand ships and started one of the most epic wars in recorded history. Helen of Troy.

She turned towards them, but Altair and ezio had quickly hidden themselves behind a shelf before she could spot them. If Altair was alive, he would bet his heart would have been racing. He looked at Ezio and saw his worry mirrored in the Italian's brown eyes. Over the centuries they had heard rumors speculating on the beautiful adulteress' character. Some believed that she had eloped with Paris to Troy to escape her neglectful husband, some that she had been taken against her will, and others that she had been an innocent pawn. However, Altair and Ezio knew that she had been far from innocent. She had been part of an organization called the Cult of Kosmos, a group preceding the Templars and the Ancient Ones. she had snuck onto the ship carrying Paris to Troy as planned for her husband and brother-in-law to invade Troy and conquer it. Because of her, ten years war of blood and death happened, and destroyed a nation. Now, she was paying penance these last three thousand years.

Altair and Ezio knew that they'd have to be careful around her and any other ghost in here, or they would be in trouble should the angels discover their presence. Altair scaled the shelf with Ezio following behind him. Once they were at the top and at a safe distance from listeners, they were able to talk more freely.

"Pretend you're Desmond. What's in your head?" Altair asked.

Ezio thought for a moment. "I find the records of my family, I try to find a quiet and private place where no one could find me, but I also try not to go too far so I wouldn't get lost."

Altair nodded in agreement. "Yes. If we can find the spot where they would keep our records, we'll have a better idea on where to find him."

It took them awhile due to having to dodge and hide from ghosts and angels until they finally arrived at the spot where the records would be. Just as they expected, the records book wasn't there. There were sections of desks with Angels working. It was the only place in this entire room where a thirteen-year-old could decently hide. But which one? And how do they look? There were Angels everywhere and ghosts who would recognize them as Assassins and know that they weren't supposed to be here.

"Altair," Ezio whispered. He pointed at a cart of files being pushed by a ghost along the sides of the desks. It was risky, but it would have to do.

Careful not to attract attention, both men jumped down and carefully hid beside the cart, walking in pace with it and keeping out of sight. They neared a section of vacant desks. It was perfect. They narrowly left the cart, hid among the desks, and avoided the ghost pushing the cart.

Now to find Desmond. Altair and Ezio began their search. The two of them were nearly startled by the dong of the room's clock.

"One o'clock," Altair realized. He turned to Ezio and nodded. They needed to hurry.

A thump was heard a couple rows ahead. Altair didn't look at Ezio. He headed towards the desk where the sound had come from, and there he was: Desmond with the book of records detailing his family tree and from the look on his face, Altair knew that he mustn't have been having any luck finding any other ancestors who hadn't moved on to the Afterlife yet. It was a painful truth, one that Altair and the rest of his family had to grasp over the years. Knowing that they were stuck here on the Other Side while the people they knew and loved most of their lives were waiting for them in the Afterlife until they could complete their unfinished business and join them.

Desmond realized that he was no longer alone and looked up.

The look on his face instantly made Altair think of his own sons, Darim and Sef when he caught them stealing sweets from the kitchens in Masyaf.

Desmond grinned nervously and sheepishly at him and Ezio as they both looked down on him the same way they had done with their own children when they were in a lot of trouble.

000{{*}}000

Desmond stayed quiet as he allowed Altair and Ezio to lead him out of the records building without being seen.

'Allowed' might be a strong word. More like him choosing to walk by his own freewill instead of Altair and Ezio dragging him by the arms as they had threatened to do. It had taken few words from them for Desmond to know that he was in serious trouble. He didn't know how they disciplined children back in their days, but if they were anything like his own father, Desmond was going to get it. He began to mentally say goodbye to all his dreams. Leaving the Farm forever, seeing the world, trying all the different kinds of food, experiencing all the technologies he had only heard about, and living the life of a normal person. Desmond tried to say goodbye to it all, but he couldn't. He actually felt tears in his eyes, and hurriedly brushed them before Altair and Ezio caught them. He didn't want to show any weakness.

The two ancestors lead him into an alleyway where the rest of Desmond's ancestors were waiting for them. He couldn't identify what they were feeling because their faces were all stoic blank.

"Is he hurt?" Edward asked.

"He walked stiffly at first when we found him, possibly from laying inside an inclosed space for so long," Altair answered.

"I can speak for myself," Desmond grumbled.

His Arabian ancestor narrowed his golden eyes sharply, and Desmond flinched.

"Do you still have the Orb?" Amunet asked.

"Yes," Desmond answered, annoyed.

She narrowed her eyes that seriously reminded Desmond too much of his own mother. "Let us see it."

"It's not fair," Desmond grumbled just loud enough for his ancestors to hear. He reached into his pocket, and that's when he felt it. He could still feel the feather he had saved, but the space where he'd placed the Orb of Eden was empty. Alarmed, he checked his other pocket. He could feel his ancestors' eyes on him as he searched.

"Desmond?" Ezio asked, worried. The ancestors of the Miles clan began to feel worried as their descendant searched his pockets outside and inside his large hoodie.

"I…" Desmond knew he didn't have to look further to understand the absent weight that should have been somewhere in his hoodie. "I can't find it."

The looks on all of his ancestors' faces told Desmond that he was in very serious trouble.

000{{*}}000

"YOU LOST THE ORB OF EDEN?!" the Angel, Gabriel shouted to the entire Miles family.

Desmond could feel all his ancestors grimacing.

They were all back in Gabriel's office, only this time there were two angels standing on either side of Gabriel. Desmond didn't say anything, but his silence was enough.

Gabriel continued. "Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

It was the same question all of his ancestors had asked him when they first found out that he had the Orb of Eden.

"No. I don't!" Desmond snapped. "So why don't you tell me what I've done and how I've supposedly doomed everyone!" He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Bayek shaking his head.

"'What you've done?!' the angel exclaimed incredulously. "Boy, you could not begin to understand the consequences of your actions." He sighed, and settled down in his chair. "The Orb of Eden was created by an Isu or what many of you call the Ones Who Came Before: Juno."

What? Desmond had no idea what he was talking about, but from all of his ancestors' stiffening, they knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Juno had created the Orb in an attempt to bring back her dead husband Aita. A person would use the Orb, and within three days, find Aita, give him the Orb and take their place in the Living World."

Desmond suddenly felt cold.

"Minerva and Jupiter put a stop to her using such a method, considering it to be… unnatural, and she moved on to different methods in bringing him back."

"So what you're saying is…?" Arno asked since Desmond couldn't speak.

"Even if you gave Desmond your blessing and returned him to the Living World, the spirit who has the Orb could just suck him back to the Other Side on the third sunrise and take his place in the Living World," Gabriel explained.

Desmond felt his legs give out and he fell to his knees. He felt hands on his shoulders and his ancestors talking to him in concern.

He heard Connor's voice speak. "We can still find the Orb before that happens. When and where was the last you knew you had the Orb?"

Desmond tried to think. "I-I knew I had it when I hid in the Hall of Memories, and… I had it when I found my family's records and his to read them, then…" he choked. "I-I-I fell asleep." And when he woke up he had been so concerned looking up his ancestors, he hadn't registered the missing weight of the Orb in his pocket.

"Did you talk to anyone? You obviously did since you could not have found the records building by yourself," Haytham told him.

"I… I did," Desmond remembered. "Two men actually. A ghost named Mason who found me and lead to the building, and an associate of his called Herod."

"Herod?" Gabriel asked, sitting up. "As in King Herod I of Judea?"

"I guess. He had a bushy beard and was working in one of the offices. He looked scared for a second when he saw the Hidden Blade on my arm," Desmond explained.

Gabriel looked at the male angel by his side. The Angel nodded. "It's him. He was assassinated by the Hidden Ones Bennu and Madu in 4 BCE which would explain why he acted afraid when he saw your hidden blade."

Desmond heard Amunet snicker and looked up to see a proud gleam in her eyes, and remembered that Bennu had been her daughter.

The female angel spoke. "We'll find Herod and bring him in for questioning."

Gabriel nodded. "Good. Now this other man… Mason, you said his name was? What did he look like?"

Desmond thought for a minute, figuring how to describe him. "He… he was dressed in modern clothes… he wore a toboggan that covered his hair because it looked like a beard was trying to grow. He had the darkest eyes I'd ever seen." Desmond could still see them. Although he had acted friendly towards Desmond, those eyes had given Desmond shivers. As if they were a dark abyss that could hide anything.

He looked up at Gabriel and was surprised at what he saw. The Angel had gone pale and Desmond believed that he could see fear in his expression. Gabriel shakily got up from his seat and headed towards a shelf filled with papers and knicknacks. He grabbed what looked like a silver plate and waved his hand over it. He showed it to Desmond who was surprised to see the image of a man in it. He recognized the features as those of Mason's only there was no toboggan. His dark hair was loose, but that wasn't what got Desmond's attention. It was the angry red cross marked on his forehead that looked as if it had been burned into his skin.

"Is this the man?" Gabriel asked.

"Yes," Desmond answered, staring at the true image of Mason. "Yes it is."

A choking sound caused Desmond to look up in alarm. Gabriel looked as if he was going to be sick. He choked and stuttered as if he were trying to speak, but the words couldn't come out. He swayed and his eyes rolled back before he fell down on his back, the plate falling to the ground with a loud clang.

For a moment everybody was stunned, shocked.

"Did… did he actually faint?" Jacob whispered in surprise.

The other two Angels snapped out of their stupor and rushed over to help Gabriel.

"First time in two thousand years he's done it," the male Angel commented as he and his partner tried to revive their superior. He looked over and glared at Desmond and his ancestors. "Congratulations. You broke his record."

Desmond felt truly frightened right now. He felt a hand on his right shoulder and saw Bayek and Amunet beside him along with the rest of his ancestors. None of them unsheathed their weapons, but their stances reminded him of a mountain lion he once saw, poised to attack and defend their cubs from any predator threatening them. These men and women whom in their own lifetimes had probably fought in many battles and killed many people, and who were probably the stuff of nightmares were poised to protect… him? Strangely, Desmond felt comforted. More than he had felt in a long time.

"Who is he?" Bayek demanded in a low but firm voice. Desmond recognized the tone as one his father would use that said "you better tell me what's going on, or there will be hell to pay."

The female Angel answered with a sigh. "He's gone by many names over the years. Some call him the Master of Mahan, but many know him by his real name of Cain."

"The firstborn son of Adam and Eve," Shay realized.

The Angel nodded. "History knows him as the first murderer who killed his own brother Abel in jealous rage. In a way that story is true, but it is not the whole story. In their bid to protect the freewill of mankind from the Isu, Adam and Eve charged Abel to protect the Pieces of Eden from ever being used. Cain, who had begun to crave power, fought Abel for an Apple of Eden until he overpowered him and killed him."

Desmond remembered resting before the image of Cain and Abel in the Hall of Memories, seeing the golden ball that Cain reached for, and Mason talking about the story. He shuddered.

The Angel continued, "When he was found out, many called for Cain's blood because Abel had been well-loved. Adam and Eve, in their grief choose a different kind of punishment. They branded him with the cross and exiled him. Many years later, he returned with an Order he called the Children of Cain, and led them against his parents' people until he was defeated by his youngest brother Seth. Even in death, Cain's cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate life was so great his papers for his passage to the Afterlife were burned and he was sentenced to wander the Other Side for all time."

Desmond felt so sick he had to sit down on the ground. He could feel his ancestors worried eyes on him.

"If Cain's actions were considered so horrible he was denied passage into the Afterlife, why wasn't he thrown into the River Styx like many had been throughout the megaannum?" Altair asked.

The male angel grimaced. "Cain is a crafty spirit. He's learned how to hide himself among the other spirits over the years in plain sight. Everytime we try to apprehend him, he slips away. Now that he has the Orb of Eden he will only have to wait until the third sunrise when Desmond's spirit will be trapped here and he can return to the Living World and conquer it."

There was tense silence until Desmond was suddenly hoisted to his feet. The action took him by surprise that he almost fell but he was held up by Ezio and Connor. Without one word, the Miles clan turned and led Desmond out of the office.

"Where are you going?" the male Angel demanded.

"You said that Cain hides in plain sight?" Amunet said as they left. "Who better than those who hide in the shadows in plain sight?"

Throughout all this Desmond didn't protest once. He stayed quiet and allowed his ancestors to lead him out without any resistance.

000{{*}}000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think? Short compared to my usual chapters I know, but I hope the next one will be longer. Looks like Desmond's going to learn the family business whether he likes it or not. As for Cain, I know I wanted a villain that was real evil and one that would make both Assassins and Templars fight together to defeat. What'd you guys think? For the next few chapters, Desmond's going to be bonding with his ancestors and be learning a lot. If anybody has any ideas they want to write about please let me know. Leave reviews and let me know what you guys think. Thank you. :-)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the latest chapter in Family Heritage. Just so we're clear I own nothing, and I advise you people to read MasterAssassinMoon's Child of the Cross and her Game of War before reading this chapter if you please.
> 
> I'm going to try and switch up people's POV on this. Let me know if I'm at least keeping people in character.

Chapter 7

The Miles clan all stepped out of the office building and into the busy streets of the Other Side.

"Where do we start?" Connor asked.

"The Hall of Memories," Altair answered. "We'll listen and ask if anybody has seen Cain or "Mason". Figure out if he habits it often and if he talks to anyone."

"He'll most likely scurry into whatever hole he's been hiding in all these years," Arno said.

"We'll have better luck interrogating Herod since he seems to have some kind of relationship with Cain," Haytham told them.

"The Angels will already be doing that, and will most likely not allow us to," Evie disagreed.

Jacob scoffed. "Since when did that stop us?"

"We could try talking to the other ghosts that work in the records. Maybe one of them knows something," Shay suggested.

Edward shook his head. "Too risky. There's a reason why they have all been paying penitence for thousands of years."

As members of the Miles family continued to debate on what their next course of action would be, Desmond's stomach growled so loudly it actually interrupted them.

"What was that?" Arno asked.

Desmond's stomach growled again, catching their attention. Desmond felt embarrassed, but he hadn't eaten since last night, and it was way past lunch. His stomach actually hurt from the hunger pain.

"You're hungry, piccolo uomo," Ezio realized.

Desmond nodded. "Starving."

"Forgot what that was like," Jacob whispered to his sister.

"There's a restaurant I know of that makes the best cuisine the world has ever known," Edward suggested. "The Mixing Bowl."

Desmond raised an eyebrow. What kind of name was that?

"But they sell food for ghosts who miss the taste of food, not sustenance food for the living," Arno reminded him.

Edward shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

"Alright," Bayek announced, gaining everybody's attention. "Some of us will search the Hall of Memories, while some try to find out what Herod knows, and the rest looks after Desmond. Altair, Ezio, Connor, and I will search the Hall. Ezio, your da Vinci friend likes to spend time there, doesn't he?"

"Si, Leonardo likes to observe the developments of these new modern inventions: these automobiles called 'cars', flying machines called 'airplanes', and communication devices called 'cellphones' among other things," Ezio answered, realizing what Bayek had in mind. "If Cain inhabited the Hall of Memories often, Leonardo might have a good idea how to find him."

"Leonardo? As in Leonardo da Vinci? The Artist?" Desmond asked, incredulously. "You know Leonardo da Vinci?!"

Ezio chuckled amusingly. "Si, mio giovane discendente. He was my dearest friend back when I was living."

"Wow," Desmond breathed. He never would have expected that.

"I'll go with the group to interrogate Herod, and-" Haytham tried to announce, but everybody shouted "No!"

He looked at them, insulted. "What?"

"With all due respect, Haytham," Shay said carefully. "Your interrogation methods tend to… let's say be overkill."

Haytham sighed, exasperated. "It's not as if I can kill a man who's already dead."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Connor said, arms over his chest.

Amunet spoke up. "Evie, Shay, and I will try to see what Herod knows. The rest of you will watch Desmond."

Desmond could see that the remaining members wanted to object, but the tone of Amunet's voice kept their mouths shut.

"Then it's settled," Bayek said. "We'll meet at the usual rendezvous point later on."

000{{*}}000

Desmond followed Edward, Haytham, Arno, and Jacob to where the restaurant, the Mixing Bowl was at. Desmond had never been to a restaurant, but he had heard enough about them to create a visual idea. They were supposedly places where you could dine in, surrounded by tables of other people dining in, workers called waiters would serve you food, whatever you wanted, and refill your drink every time it was nearly empty. Eating at a real restaurant was actually on Desmond's list of things he wanted to do when he would go out into the real world.

There were several tables outside the building filled with spirits talking as they ate foods that Desmond couldn't recognize. They entered the restaurant, and Desmond was overwhelmed by the amazing aroma. The air smelled rich with spices and vegetables cooking and meat frying. It made Desmond's mouth water and his stomach growl again.

A man dressed in white and wearing a chef's hat approached them with a wide smile. "Bonjour Monsieur Dorian."

Arno smiled back. "Bonjour Monsieur Point."

"I was wondering when I would have the honour of serving you and your family again. It's been years. Where's the rest of your famille?" the man asked.

"Oh, you know how descendants are: turn your back for one moment, and another one lands into trouble," Arno replied.

They all laughed except Desmond who bristled.

Monsieur Point noticed Desmond, and his expression changed to sorrow and pity. "New addition to the family?" he asked. He must not have noticed how Desmond was still alive, if only mostly alive.

At Arno's request, Point moved them to a table in the far back where they had a good view of the restaurant, and could also keep Desmond out of sight. Point promised to serve them their usual in large, and not even a minute later their table was covered with enough food to feed the Farm.

Desmond was amazed.

There were so many different kinds of food he didn't know where to start. Edward, Arno, and Jacob chuckled at the flabbergasted expression on Desmond's face while Haytham just smirked.

"Just pick what you want, Lad, and dive in," Jacob told Desmond before grabbing a plate.

There was a bowl of stew with meat steaming out of it. It smelled hot, but Desmond wanted to try it. He grabbed a fork and stuck it in before pulling it out and placing it in his mouth. It was like an explosion of flavours. The meat's juices were incredible, and yet at the same time set Desmond's mouth on fire. He dropped his fork and his ancestors looked at him in alarm as he waved his arms in panic.

Edward looked at the bowl and laughed. "Pepperpot stew will do that if you're not used to it. Just chew and swallow, and we'll give you something to wash it down."

It hurt his tongue, but Desmond managed to chew enough to swallow the meat. He was offered a cup of milk, and he chugged it down, letting it wash the hot spices and sooth his burning mouth. He set the cup down with a gasp for air while his ancestors looked on in amusement.

"Should have warned you about that, Lad," Edward said, grinning from ear to ear.

After that episode, Desmond moved on to different foods. Edward introduced him to smoked salmon, Arno to different kinds of French bread and cheeses, Jacob to different styles of cooked meat with vegetables, and Haytham tried to convert Desmond into being a tea drinker without success.

"So why do you guys eat food if you're dead and don't need to eat?" Desmond asked. He was feeling more full and not as hungry as he had been earlier which had been a pleasant surprise for all of them.

"We don't need to eat, but many ghosts on the Other Side miss the things we use to do in life. For many, some of the foods they eat bring back memories of the things they did and the people they were with," Haytham answered.

"For example," Jacob explained. "For me, drinking a pint of ale makes me think of my days with the Rooks, or eating cinnamon crumpets that my grandmother used to bake." He stopped and stared off into space, making Desmond raise a questioning eyebrow. The Rooks?

"Or," Edward spoke, drawing Desmond's attention. "How for me, cooked fish makes me think of my days sailing the West Indies."

"You were a sailor?" Desmond asked, curious.

"Seamon," Edward corrected. "And yes I was. Sailing side by side with Blackbeard, Mary Read, Anne Bonny, Calico Jack, and so many others."

"As in pirates?" Desmond asked, excitedly, recognizing the names Blackbeard and Mary Read from his mother's stories.

Haytham rolled his eyes. "Oh, please Father, if you go into your never-ending stories of the glory days, we'll be stuck here for years."

Edward turned to his son with a wounded expression. "My descendant should know where he comes from, and don't you deny it Haytham, but you and Jenny loved hearing about my stories even if you didn't fully understand them."

Haytham sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm just saying that we'll be stuck here a long time instead of searching for you-know-what if we decide to share our entire life stories to desmond. Speaking of which, we should join the others and see what they have uncovered."

"But we haven't even had dessert yet," Jacob protested.

The food on their table suddenly changed into plates of sweets and bowls of ice cream.

"Well, we can't leave now, or it will be a long time before Point lets us back in," Arno said.

At the Farm, Desmond's mother would sometimes bake apple pies or berry cobblers picked from the woods, and from time to time, his father would give him a chocolate bar he had gotten from the outside world. The food before him now was ten times as good. It was like taking a bite of heaven as Desmond ate into each serving until he was so full he thought he would be sick. He looked at his ancestors who were eating their own desserts at a more sedated pace: Edward eating some kind of pie with thick molasses in it, Haytham sipping his tea, Arno drinking a cup of hot chocolate with a cinnamon stick in it, and Jacob eating scoops of strawberry ice cream.

"So… where do we meet the others?" Desmond couldn't help but ask. It felt weird watching men with swords, knives, and guns strapped to them just eating and drinking like it was normal. Or what Desmond believed was normal.

Arno set his mug down. "The best place for all of us to meet would be at the Farm, considering it's where all our common descendants reside."

"What do you mean? You guys have been dead for centuries? I can't be your only descendant."

Haytham looked at him, annoyed by his confusion. "You are the only descendant the eleven of share ever since your parents married and had you. I would think after perusing your family records you'd know about your distant cousins."

In all honesty, Desmond pretty skipped a lot of them, focusing on finding any family members who were dead and hadn't moved on to the Afterlife yet. Heck, he probably had skipped somebody who was still on the Other Side in his rush.

"So why the Farm?" Desmond didn't want to admit it, but he was actually afraid to go back there even if nobody could see him.

Jacob explained it to him. "It's the one place up there where we can all meet, and it's a lot safer up there for you than it is down here. If anyone discovered that you're not actually dead who knows what will happen."

Desmond supposed he had a point. He could remember one of his father's lessons not to linger too long in unfamiliar territory. He wondered what his parents were doing right now. Were they still looking for him? Desmond didn't know. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Edward looking down at him kindly. It felt kind of odd due to the scars all across the pirate's face.

"If you're done eating we should head on out."

Desmond nodded without complaint, and followed his ancestors out.

000{{*}}000

Out of habit, Ezio blended into the crowds as he, Altair, Connor, and Bayek made their way to the Hall of Memories. Ezio would talk to Leonardo while the others would search the Hall for any clues or bits of information.

Ezio hated to admit it, but he was nervous about meeting his old genius of a friend. It had been decades since the two of them had a proper discussion, almost a century. The twentieth century had been a time of great turmoil. Ezio had been busy keeping an eye on his descendants and managing his family members while Leonardo had been observing technology's development from daily items to weapons to scientific discoveries. Ezio could already see Leonardo expressing his delight over flying machines and devices called 'radios'.

They passed by portraits in the Hall of many historic events that they or their descendants had been witness to over the centuries. There were some that sent pangs through Ezio and his family.

For him it was the Italian Wars, especially the ones when he had fought the Borgia, and the Siege of Florence he had witnessed his own children, Flavia and Marcello in their teens fight to free it and help the young Catherine de'Medici imprisoned as well. To this day Ezio could still remember the helplessness he'd felt as he watched in spirit form his children, barely starting their Assassin training, commit their first kills, protect their aging mother, and fight for survival while also learning the tenets of the Creed the same way he had.

For Bayek it was the portraits of the Roman Empire, reminding him of the invasion of his own country, and many others that were conquered and ruled by the Romans.

For Connor, it was seeing that reminded him of the same discrimination he himself had faced in his own time.

For, Altair, recently it had been the portraits of the Holocaust that had killed most of his descendants, and any that carried music due to the Branskys being career musicians since the mid-1800s.

Yes, the Hall of Memories was one of the many places the Miles Clan did not like to visit.

They headed towards the section of memory portraits where Ezio knew Leonardo would be, all while everybody else kept an eye out for Cain or any clue that could help them. Just as he had expected, Ezio saw Leonardo standing before a portrait of a hangar with engineers inspecting aircraft Ezio believed were called jets, and he was studying them as if they were one of his inventions. It brought to Ezio's mind the flying machine he had used to fly to the Palazzo Ducale so many years ago. He approached his friend silently and tapped him on the shoulder.

The old artist and inventor jumped and turned to Ezio in surprise and delight upon recognizing him. "Ezio, mio fratello, it's been so long!" he exclaimed before pulling Ezio into a fierce hug. Ezio returned it, glad to see his old friend.

Leonardo pulled back. "It's been too long! Since the Great War I think. They've been developing technology so fast I have been struggling to keep myself up. They've managed to develop planes where they can carry more people over land and sea, they've created boxes called televisions that show moving pictures, and machines that can now take people up to the stars and moon. Incredibile!"

Throughout all this, Ezio had to smile at his friend's enthusiasm. Even after centuries it seemed that some things never changed. He heard Bayek clear his throat, and was reminded as to why they were here.

"We'll have to catch up later Leonardo, but right now we need your help." He explained the situation about Desmond, the Orb of Eden, and their search for Cain before Desmond's third sunrise.

Leonardo listened and frowned. "This is troubling. I've seen many spirits wander in and out of the Hall for centuries. When people die and they learn about the true history of the world, they are fascinated in looking at the portraits. Even the Angels have to step in from time to time to manage the crowds of curious ghosts."

"What about the portrait of Cain and Abel?" Connor asked.

Leonardo thought for a moment. "I myself have felt compelled to look upon it, tragic and disturbing as it is. Many people like to look upon it and learn about the beginning of history. If your Cain visited often he would have gone incognito. Many spirits who have committed grave wrongs in life, upon coming here would be swarmed by spirits of their victims or those who had condemned them. I've seen many of them be thrown into the River Styx." Leonardo shuddered, and nobody in the Miles family blamed him. Even for those who rightfully deserved it, watching someone be thrown into the river and swallowed by it was nightmarish even for the most hardened souls. Leonardo continued. "If Cain is as sly and tricky as the Angels say he is, even you amici miei may have trouble finding him in two days."

Ezio grinned. "Give a little faith, vecchio amico. You are talking to the Creed's finest."

Leonardo grinned back. "Well, I may not be able to help you much, but I can tell you of someone who may: Herodotus. He helps the Angels record historical events, and sets up all of this."

"Herodotus?" Ezio asked, wondering if he had heard of him.

"You mean the historian from Ancient Greece?" Altair asked, the more studious member of the family.

"Si, the one who is the first recorded historian. He lived around 400 BCE I believe."

"And he's been serving the Angels ever since? Out of penitence?" Bayek asked, a little suspicious of the man.

Leonardo shook his head. "Actually no. from what I've heard, Herodotus is one of the rare souls content here on the Other Side. His passion has always been about learning the history of mankind and recording it. He may not be able to tell you where to find Cain, but he could tell you his history to get a better understanding of him. You won't have to worry about him ratting you out to the Angels. That I can assure you. You can find him in the Universal Library."

"Grazie Leonardo, we will go over and talk to him," Ezio told him. They may not know where Cain is hiding, but the Assassins had learned that knowing about your target was just as helpful.

Leonardo nodded, grinning in amusement. "Good luck, Ezio. If your descendant is anything like you pazzi, you will need it."

The four Assassins groaned, knowing how true that was as they left the Hall of Memories.

000*}}000

Shay followed Amunet and Evie as they made their way to where the Angels would have taken Herod in for questioning.

In the past two hundred years since his death, Shay had learned a lot about his fellow family members. Although he and Haytham were the only Templars in their family that hadn't moved on to the Afterlife yet, making them outnumbered by their Assassin members, they coexisted well enough all things considered. Despite their conflicting views and the occasional fights, they stuck together if anybody was brave or dumb enough to bother them. It was sort of like the nobody-messes-with-you-but-me kind of relationship which was better than nothing Shay supposed. There was plenty of bittersweetness and awkwardness in the family. Many members would have gladly tossed Shay and Haytham into the River Styx upon first meeting them if it had been allowed.

Bayek and Amunet, the Founding members of the Creed, had taken a while to cool their animosity towards them enough to truly get to know them.

Altair, had been the most understanding member of the family, possibly due to him being married to a former Templar and when he learned about the true reason why Shay had turned from the Creed and to the Templar Order.

Ezio, who had spent a lifetime and centuries hating Templars for what they'd done to his family and friends, had taken a long time to stop threatening to throw Shay and Haytham into the Styx and settled for the occasional fight.

For Edward, Shay could still sense a bit of disappointment in him for the choices Haytham had made, especially after he learned the truth about Birch, but he never hesitated to defend Haytham and Shay every time somebody threatened to toss them into the Styx.

Connor, although things between him and Haytham never truly thawed, he and Shay mostly got along in memory of Connor's wife, and Shay's daughter, Catherine.

Arno… was a big source of regret in Shay's existence. Killing his father Charles Dorian, not only did Shay orphaned a young boy, he had also killed the man who mentored and protected his Catherine when he couldn't. Shay could still see the look of pain and anguish on his daughter's face when she discovered that he had murdered her mentor, someone whom she had looked up to and loved. She never truly forgave him before she passed on to the Afterlife. When Shay and Arno had met for the first time on the Other Side it had taken Altair, Ezio, and Connor to pry Arno off of Shay, Haytham and Edward to keep Shay back, and Bayek and Amunet to get in between them so nobody would accidentally fall into the Styx. The Frenchman had cursed Shay until he was taken away to cool down. Repentance and forgiveness were a couple of the main keys to moving on to the Afterlife, or so the Angels had told them after the incident. It took decades for them to stop trading blows to one another, and even now tread on thin ice.

The arrival of the Frye twins hadn't helped. Upon learning the truth about Shay and Arno, the twins had obviously sided with their great-grandfather. They had spent decades hating Templars. Jacob had trusted people who turned out to be Templar using him for their own selfish gains and stabbed him in the back, and his own father-in-law had abused his wife and murdered her mother when she was a child. Evie was more open minded than her brother and great-grandfather. She was understanding about Shay's decision in leaving the Creed for the Templars, but despised him for murdering her ancestor.

So yes, while things were tense between Shay and the rest of his family they got along well enough.

Shay supposed he should be flattered that Amunet, the scariest member in his opinion (and everybody else's, though they would deny it), invited him to accompany her and Evie to interrogate Herod. How ironic for the founding member of the Assassins to be working together with a Templar. As they neared their destination, a thought nagged inside Shay's head. He had always been outspoken, and that never changed even after his own death, and he couldn't help but ask the question that had been bothering him since they had tried to send Desmond back home the night before.

"Why are you so hard on Desmond?"

Amunet stopped, looking at Shay in surprised disbelief. "You need to ask? The boy is reckless, and does not fully comprehend the danger these Pieces of Eden can bring," she told Shay.

"That's not the boy's fault," Shay reminded her. "His own parents couldn't even convince him that the war between Templars and Assassins is real. If they tried to tell him about the Isu he would definitely think they were crazy."

"Even modern day Assassins are skeptical about Pieces of Eden," Evie spoke up.

Amunet hmmed before continuing on, Shay and Evie right behind her.

"And then he takes off when we're trying to send him home, and loses the Orb of Eden to a power-hungry ghost," Amunet growled. "Why couldn't he just listen in the first place?"

"He's only a boy," Shay defended. "If I found myself surrounded by strangers who had been dead for years, I'd be afraid to trust anyone too. There's no need to speak harshly about your own descendant."

Evie elbowed him in the ribs. Because he was dead it didn't hurt, but it was enough to get his attention to see the Victorian Assassin shaking her head. He was suddenly reminded of Khemu, Bayek and Amunet's son that nobody dared to speak out loud. Evie had lost two daughters when they were still young, and therefore understood Amunet better than anybody in their family aside from Bayek.

Amunet spun around and glared fiercely at him. "You have been dead for two hundred years, but I have been dead for two thousand years. I have seen too many descendants die before they can grow up because they had wanted a different life. I will not let Desmond follow the same path. The life he lives now may not make him happy, but it keeps him alive and protected. That is what matters. I am trying to keep him alive because I have seen too many dead children in this family." Her eyes spoke of the centuries of pain and sadness she had seen watching over her descendants.

Shay understood her point of view, but he remembered his daughter and the things he had done in the name of keeping her safe and protected, and succeeding only in driving her away. "The things we do may be seen as protecting him, but to Desmond it seems as though we are trying to control how he lives his life, and that will make it all the more difficult for us to help him."

The Egyptian Assassin and the Irish Templar glared at one another until Evie reminded them about Herod and what little time they had left. Amunet continued on, but Shay lingered with Evie.

"You know I'm right, Evie."

The woman slowly nodded. "I do, Shay, but I also think Amunet has a point in focusing on Desmond's safety. Perhaps if I had done the same in my own time, my twins would have grown up instead of dying so young."

"You trusted someone who should have protected your girls. It wasn't your fault," Shay gently reminded her.

Evie shook her head. "Yes, it was." She continued on after Amunet, leaving Shay behind with his thoughts.

It seemed that Desmond's arrival brought up different kinds of demons. Demons everyone in the Miles clan had strived to keep hidden. The sooner they found that damned Orb of Eden, and returned Desmond home the better.

000{{*}}000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thoughts everybody? I hoped that I kept everyone in character. I also wanted to focus on what Desmond's presence is doing to all his ancestors. After all, they have been watching over their descendants for centuries and have seen a lot of pain and tragedy so it's understandable that they want Desmond (who is the first living descendant they've been able to actually interact with) to avoid suffering the same fate. Please let me know what you guys think, and if there are any ways you want Desmond to interact and bond with his ancestors let me know, and I'll try write it down. Once again, thank you all so much for your support.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Helen of Sparta, or as she was more notoriously known as Helen of Troy, made her way down to the deepest reaches of the Other Side by the River Styx. Here, you could hear the wails of the lost souls trapped inside its deep waters and see their hands reaching out desperately but never breaking its surface. It sent shivers through Helen's ghostly form as she saw the trapped spirit of her brother-in-law Agamemnon. His mouth opened in an anguish wail as he reached out desperately to her. Although she knew he couldn't touch her, Helen involuntarily stepped back, and kept close to the cave-like wall away from the edge of the river.

Normally, she would have taken any excuse to be out of the records building, but this one made her want to go back, but she shoved those feelings down. He would not tolerate such thinking, and Helen shuddered at what he would do.

She carried on until she reached her destination, a beach where many other ghosts she recognized from the records and other places on the Other Side who had been paying for their penintence since the day they died. It was risky for so many of them to be meeting all at once, but that's not what frightened Helen the most. What frightened her was the many cages lined up on the edge of the beach where growls could be heard from them, and a figure of a man was standing so close and so casually by them. The glyph markings on his skin marked him as descended from the Isu, but the angry red cross scarred on to his forehead proved him to be Cain, the first murderer after the Great Catastrophe.

He took a step towards the congregation, and the ghosts all fell silent from whatever conversations they were having. There was something about Cain that struck fear into everyone no matter how tough you pretended to be. Cain moved towards them, the ghosts parting for him as he walked through them, glancing at each and every one of them. Helen forced her ghostly form not to shake. She hadn't felt this frightened since the invasion of Troy.

Cain reached the end of the group and stopped. For a long time he just stood there, not looking at anybody.

It unnerved Helen, mentally preparing for the storm about to be unleashed.

"Where is Herod?" the question was asked in a calm tone, but everyone could sense the threat hidden in it.

A man dressed in ancient Roman robes stepped forward, frightened. Helen recognized him as one of Rome's emperors, but couldn't remember which one. "The Angels took him in for questioning."

That wasn't good.

"Did they say why?" Cain asked, still facing away from them.

"Something about a boy named Desmond Miles."

A boy? Why would the Angels concern themselves over a boy? What made him so special? Helen came to attention when Cain finally turned to them. He didn't seem alarmed or concerned. In fact, he seemed… thoughtful. "Then the Assassins have begun their hunt."

The Assassins.

Helen had thought that she saw something earlier that day in the records: the quick shadows and the glimpse of white robes. What most people didn't know was that Helen was gifted with the rare sight of Eagle Vision. Growing up, people had believed her to be the daughter of Zeus instead of King Tyndareus of Sparta because of her gift. No one knew the truth aside from her family until the Cult found her. The leader of the Cult Agamemnon believed that she could be a useful tool for them, and arranged for her to be a part of the Cult by marrying her to his brother Menalaous.

She listened to Cain as he began to talk. "The boy, Desmond Miles comes from the Miles clan of Assassins and Templars. He's not dead, not yet anyway."

Helen could feel everyone's astonishment as well as her own. There was a living boy here on the Other Side! How was that possible?

Somebody asked Cain that same question. In answer, he held up a crystal orb for them all to see. There were confused but curious murmurs. What was it?"

"This is the Orb of Eden," Cain explained. "An artifact that the Isu created to communicate with the dead or cheat it. The boy, Desmond triggered it, and it sent him here to the Other Side without even realizing what he was doing."

"A boy?" a man, Crawford Starrick, Helen remembered, scoffed. "How does a boy use a Piece of Eden?"

Cain turned to him with a dark look that made the former Victorian Templar Grandmaster shrink back. "This boy comes from a strong bloodline of Assassins who have hunted many of you down, and killed you and what you'd hope to achieve. They've destroyed and rebuilt nations, killed many people, and hidden Pieces of Eden we would use to help the world, to make life better. He comes from the bloodline of the misthios, Kassandra herself who destroyed the Cult of Kosmos. His blood is as strong as her's, maybe even more. That's who this boy is," Cain told them all.

There were fearful murmurs among them.

Helen remembered in her own time when she found out that she wasn't the only person to have the special gift. Achilles himself had it, Prince Hector of Troy had it, and she suspected that her cousin Penelope's husband, King Odysseus of Ithaca himself had it. Such gifts made one powerful when compared to a normal person, and could make them a dangerous enemy. That's why the Cult had made it their business to have anyone with that kind of gift be in their power. Helen had truly believed that the Cult was meant to help the world when she married at a time of civil war. It's why she agreed to her brother-in-law's plan to sneak aboard Paris of Troy's ship. Stealing the wife of a powerful king would incite war on the nation of Troy, whose crown prince had refused to yield to the Cult. What Helen had not counted on was to actually fall for the kind and charming Paris who showed her his family and beloved Troy. She met Hector, a devoted son, brother, husband, and father to his family, and devoted leader to his people. She saw Troy, a nation of open-minded and passionate people. Helen realized how happy she was, out from under the Cult's thumb, seeing the beauty of Troy, knowing and being part of a loving family, until the Cult arrived. Ten years of war saw to the deaths of Hector and Paris, and many other good men and women. Helen remembered brave and fierce Andromache and cold Cassandra subdued when Agamemnon and his men killed their family and forced themselves upon the Trojan princesses. Helen didn't feel any satisfaction from the praise Agamemnon and Menalaous had given her on their way back to Sparta. It was there Helen had learned that in order to consolidate his control of the Cult, Agamemnon had killed Helen's niece, his own daughter Iphigenia to show his own power. When they returned, Helen's sister and Agamemnon's wife Clytemnestra waited for them and stabbed Agamemnon to death. By then, Helen had left all faith she ever had in the Cult. Since her death she had been paying penintence for the part she had played in the Trojan War until she would be allowed to see her family and loved ones again.

"This Orb of Eden," Cain said, holding the said orb high. "Is our ticket back to the Living World. No more paying penintence for thousands of years in this hellhole. If we can't go to the Afterlife, we shall return to the Living World and take back what should have been ours. In two days time the Orb will grant us that."

There was a roar of approval from the ghosts until Rodrigo Borgia spoke up. "But what of the Assassins? What if they get their hands on the Orb?"

Cain's smile was so sinister it sent chills down everyone's form. "I will ensure that the Assassin's never have the opportunity to find it before then. They will have other things to worry about."

He turned to the cage behind him. "Isn't that right, my pet?"

Loud growls roared from the cage and dark clawed hands came and wrapped themselves around the cage bars.

Everyone took several steps back away from the cage and Cain in fear. Among Helen's people the creature in that cage was called Baboulas, but to many others it was known as the nightmare, Bogeyman.

An ominous feeling filled the air with the monster's growls and Cain's malicious laughter.

000{{*}}000

Bayek, Altair, Ezio, and Connor entered the Universal Library.

Bayek had never been much of a scholar in his own time. Sure, he had a healthy thirst for knowledge of the history and culture of his country and family heritage, but nothing like his studious wife had been back in the day. Still, he was amazed by the vast amount of books kept on shelves hundreds of feet high.

Ezio and Connor looked on in awe and wonderment as they took in everything while Altair stood next to Bayek, smirking at them in amusement. "Amunet, Evie, and I have spent centuries perusing the library and still feel as if we didn't put a dent to the ones stored here."

Bayek chuckled. "Come, let's find this Herodotus."

The four Assassins continued on, going deeper into the library and passing people lost in reading books from the past.

"So what do you know about Herodotus?" Ezio asked Altair.

"A little from what I've heard whenever I would come here over the years. Like Leonardo said, he lived in the 400s BCE around the time of the Greco-Persian wars and the war between Sparta and Athens. In his lifetime, many considered his stories too mythical due to him telling of sea monsters and magical objects."

"Pieces of Eden," Connor spoke up.

Altair nodded. "I believe so. Problem is that Herodotus is in a place only Angels are allowed in."

"Wouldn't be the first time we had to sneak in and talk to someone," Ezio muttered.

Using their Eagle Vision, they found a door glowing gold and knew that was where Herodotus was at. Unfortunately, there were two Angels guarding it.

"We can't attack them," Bayek said. "That will bring us trouble which we don't have time for."

"Then we'll have to distract them. Ezio and I will do that while you two go and find Herodotus," Connor told them.

Connor and Ezio moved closer to the center of the library while Altair and Bayek reached a corner, trying to look conspicuous while also keeping an eye on the door. The Italian and Native American had nearly reached the center of the room when Ezio suddenly grabbed Connor's and turned him around roughly. "What did you just say?!"

Many shushed at them while the Angels focused their attention on them. Their argument gave Bayek and Altair the chance to sneak behind the Angels and enter through the door.

There were dozens upon dozens of filing cabinets in the room and endless piles of paper stacks. They carefully maneuvered around them, making sure not to disturb anything. The room was lit not by torches or oil lamps, but the new devices called light bulbs which helped them in not stumbling in the dark. Bayek used his Eagle Vision to search for Herodotus and saw a golden figure further back. They headed towards it, Altair making sure that there weren't any Angels or ghosts who would see or disturb them. The figure was a man they realized must be Herodotus. However, he was too occupied looking down at a basin and writing things down.

As they approached the man, Bayek looked towards the basin to see what was in it. There was water in it that showed the image of a debate between American presidential candidates George W. Bush and Al Gore. He remembered hearing his descendant Elizabeth and her husband William discussing it many times. It was a big cause of concern between the Assassins and Templars. The election was nearing and causing a great deal of stress on everyone.

Bayek tapped Herodotus' shoulder and the man jumped, but thankfully didn't cry out.

He turned around and saw them, his eyes going wide before relaxing into a smile. "I'd ask how you got in here, but I think I already know the answer," he chuckled.

Bayek found himself grinning even if he was a little confused by the reception.

"We need your help," Altair said.

Like Leonardo, they explained the situation of Desmond, Cain, and the Orb of Eden. They didn't know this Herodotus. All they had were rumors of him, and da Vinci's reassurance that he could be trusted, and yet there was something about him that made the two Assassins trust him. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't seem to be taken aback by them as everyone else would be, or maybe it was the fact that he seemed at peace with himself, as if he knew who he was, and had found his calling unlike every other ghost on the Other Side. He listened carefully to them and frowned in concern.

"This is indeed troubling."

He looked around at the Angels who hadn't noticed them yet, and motioned them to follow him, leaving his work behind. Altair and Bayek followed him deeper into the room, going behind shelves of files and books and hiding them from view.

"Cain's story is something the Angels don't want to be known on the Other Side for fear of others following his example. I myself never learned the true story until I had been working here for centuries," Herodotus explained to them.

"Tell us what you can, so we know what we're up against," Bayek told him.

The historian stopped, and took a book from the shelf, flipping through the pages. "It began with Adam and Eve. When they took an Apple of Eden, they led the humans against the Isu who had enslaved them. The rebellion lasted for a decade until the Great Catastrophe occurred. When the dust settled the numbers of humans and Isu were diminished. To ensure their survival, the humans and the Isu mated with one another to repopulate the earth. Adam and Eve bore many children together. Among those children were Cain and Abel. During the rebuilding, Adam and Eve had found pieces of Eden that had survived the catastrophe. To ensure that no one would ever use such power to control the world again, they placed Abel in charge of guarding the pieces. Cain, who had grown a lust for power, and hearing about the stories of life before the Great Catastrophe, desired to rebuild the world as it had been before which led to him killing Abel, and stealing an Apple of Eden. The people discovered him and stopped him before he could take further action in his plans. As punishment, Adam used the cross that had been one of the Isu's symbols and branded him as a reminder to all and exiled him. Cain continued to plot in his exile. He fathered many children and gathered many followers, and created the Children of Cain, for when they would strike, Cain would regain the Apple of Eden and rule the Earth. He returned and attacked his former family and their people. The war lasted for centuries until Adam and Eve's son Seth killed him in the final conflict. In his final breath, he swore that he would return and that the Earth would be his."

Altair and Bayek absorbed all of this. They had known from the Angels what Cain's plan would be. Herodotus' story confirmed it.

"Do the records tell what methods Cain used to control his children? What tactics he used?" Bayek asked.

Herodotus thought for a second, looking through the pages in the book. "I'm no psychologist, but from what I've gathered, he used all different kinds of methods: fear, intimidation, charm, and the promise of more, and so many others," he answered.

"You said he used his last breath to swear to the world of his return. That proves how arrogant he is, and arrogance leads to mistakes," Altair pointed out.

Herodotus nodded. "It does, but if you Assassins intend to go after him, you should all be informed: Cain's parents were hybrids created by the Isu which makes him much more powerful than the average human. Also, Cain has spent centuries planning his attack on his family. There is no doubt that he has spent all the years since his death planning for when he would get the chance to return to the Living World."

Altair and Bayek nodded and thanked him for his warning, but before they began to leave, Bayek had to ask. "Why are you helping us? You don't know us, and yet you do so even putting yourself at risk with the Angels."

Herodotus smiled. "In my own time, I knew someone similar to you Assassins. She was a great warrior. Strong, cunning, and gifted. She helped end the war tearing my nation apart, and stopped the people orchestrating it. But above all, she was a good friend. A friend who taught me many things just as I taught her. Recording the history of mankind is my true calling, but I have seen the cycle of destruction too many times. If I can help prevent an even greater destruction from happening, I will do so."

The Assassins thanked Herodotus again for his help, and made their way to join the others.

000{{*}}000

Desmond followed Edward, Haytham, Arno, and Jacob back up the stairs they had come down just the night before, and came out onto the front porch of Desmond's house.

The first thing that registered in Desmond's mind was the sunset. He could just make out the orange glow from the trees. Was it really that late? He must have asked it out loud because he heard Arno reach into his coat and pull out a pocket watch. "Half past five o'clock almost," the Frenchman answered.

Whoa. Only twenty-four hours ago, Desmond had been finishing his training exercise. It felt like a lifetime ago.

He suddenly noticed Jack and Mark making their way towards his house, coming up the porch, and he automatically moved to the side without thinking. It was then he realized that they weren't alone. He saw the ghosts of the Frenchwoman and the axeman with a skirt he had bumped into the night before. Assassins, he realized with a couple others, and even a Templar Desmond guessed came from the late 1800s.

The ghosts stopped and stared at Desmond, and he unconsciously moved closer between Edward and Jacob.

The axeman glared at him. "You Lad, have caused quite a bit of trouble," he said in his thick Scottish accent.

Edward placed a hand on Desmond's shoulder. "Tell us something we don't know."

The axeman shook his head and the rest of the ghosts followed Jack and Mark into the Miles house.

Desmond, although he hadn't wanted to come here in the first place, wanted to see what his parents were doing, and went inside. He went towards the living room, and was shocked by what he saw. His mother, Elizabeth Miles was disheveled, so unlike her usual neat and tidy self. Her dark hair was half-way out of its usual braid, her clothes looked as if they had been slept in, and her eyes looked red-rimmed. The backpack he had packed with care was open and all his stuff was scattered on the coffee table. Even his bear, Rocky was laying next to his mother on the couch. Guilt hit Desmond, especially when he realized that his mother was going through his journal.

Jacob sat down next to her, looked at the journal, and grimaced. "Yeesh, you don't hold back do you?"

Desmond winced, the guilt increasing tenfold. As much as he got upset with his parents, he hated seeing his mother cry. He walked up to her and carefully placed his hand on her wrist. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Elizabeth gasped, jerking back and dropping Desmond's journal.

Desmond jumped back too, startled. Did… did she hear him? Feel him?

"Mom?" Desmond asked, hope beginning to build. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see that it was Haytham who shook his head sadly. Desmond turned back to his mother to see her holding her head.

"You're losing your bloody mind Elizabeth Miles," she whispered.

Desmond felt something wet on his face and realized that he was crying. He tried wiping his face, but he couldn't use his transparent hands so he used his still solid sleeves.

Arno sat on the other side of Elizabeth, sympathy in his features. He leaned closer and spoke softly in her ear. "You should make something for you and Will. Keep up your strength. It will help."

Elizabeth sighed, slapping her hands on her knees before standing up. "I need a break or I'll go insane." With that, she left the room and headed towards the kitchen.

Desmond's jaw dropped. He turned to Arno. "What did you do? How did you do that?"

"I planted a suggestion in her mind. When the livings' guard is down, their minds are susceptible to ghostly interference," Arno explained.

"She heard me. I know she did! I can tell her what's going on."

Edward shook his head. "It doesn't work like that, Desmond. The living and the dead are forbidden from interacting too much. The dead need to move on, and the living have to let go."

Desmond felt more tears and he turned away so his ancestors wouldn't see them.

"What are you saying?!" a furious shout came from his father's study.

Dad? Desmond ran towards it. He couldn't open the door, but he could phase through. His father was in there, standing at his desk, papers scattered, and on the wall was a map of what Desmond recognized as the state of South Dakota with pins surrounding the Black Hills where the Farm was hidden. His father looked like an insane person. He still wore the clothes from the night before, his hair looked as if he had been running his hands through them too many times, and he looked as if he hadn't slept.

Jack and Mark were there along with the ghosts from earlier standing behind them. Desmond assumed that they were either Jack and Mark's ancestors.

"I'm saying Bill, that we've scoured the forest up to a twenty mile radius and have found no tracks other than animals. Your kid's good when he wants to be, I admit that, but not that good. Without his backpack of supplies, he has no food, no freshwater, and no survival equipment. There's barely any edible vegetation to be found this time of year, and even if the kid caught a small animal or stream fish, he would have made a fire to cook it and we've no smoke. Not to mention the wildlife animals that can get to him if the cold doesn't first. I'm sorry, Bill, but on foot and without supplies, there's no way Desmond could have gotten far alive," Jack explained with a heaviness Desmond had never heard from the trainer.

His father looked as if he wanted to jump and attack someone and at the same time looked desperate and defeated. It was a look Desmond had never ever thought he would see on William Miles.

His father suddenly straightened, and looked hard at Jack and Mark. "keep looking. He might have stumbled upon a place we haven't checked yet, and you know how good he is at climbing trees. He wouldn't have to leave tracks."

Jack looked as if he wanted to argue, but Mark beat him to it. "Sir, we barely have an hour of light left before it's dark."

William's glare was one Desmond had seen plenty of times growing up, and knew that Mark was in trouble. "Then you better get to it, Boy. Nobody stops until Desmond is found and brought back safe."

His tone was non argumentative, so Jack and Mark were forced to leave without another word, their ancestors behind them.

Desmond was left with his father and ancestors. His dad collapsed into his chair, hand over his forehead, and a sigh escaped him.

Desmond's mother came into the room carrying a plate with cooked vegetables, venison, and bread.

William looked up at her before lowering his eyes. "I'm not hungry, Elizabeth."

"You need to eat, Will. I haven't seen you eaten all day," she rebuked him.

"Listen to her. She's trying to help," Edward spoke softly into William's ear.

William sighed before sitting up. "Alright," he accepted. Desmond's father dug into the meal, disproving his earlier claim in not being hungry. When his plate was nearly empty, he sat there, staring into nothing until Elizabeth placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find him."

William nodded, but his eyes were still bleak.

Desmond wanted to scream "I'm here! I'm right here!" but he knew it wouldn't work. He felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him out of the study and out of the house, on to the grass surrounding it.

"He cares," Desmond choked out. The hand on his shoulder squeezed, and he realized that it was Jacob's.

"Fathers are hard to understand. My own was such an arse he could give your's a run for his money, but… deep down he cared for me and Evie. I didn't learn that until after he died."

Desmond looked up and saw the understanding in the Victorian Assassin.

"I just wanted to see the world. Stop living in the same cycle over and over again, and see what it is we're supposed to be fighting to protect."

"I know what you mean, Desmond," Edward said. "When I was young I thought the same way. My parents were sheep farmers, but I wanted more. I wanted riches and adventures, and ended up hurting my family. I was never able to truly apologize for the pain I caused them until I came here right before they moved on."

For a long time everyone was quiet.

"The others should be here soon before too long," Arno spoke just to try and break the tension.

"What do we do in the meantime?" Desmond asked, eager for some kind of distraction.

"We could start teaching you how to use a hidden blade," Edward suggested, pointing to the one on Desmond's arm. "I know today's Assassins don't use them like they use to, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't know how to use them."

"How does it work by the way?" Desmond asked, looking at the Hidden Blade on his arm.

"Over the years, the Hidden Blade has been developed by the Assassins. Originally, it required moving your ring finger so it wouldn't get in the way of the blade," Arno explained. Desmond's eyes widened in alarm, causing his ancestor to chuckle. "Don't worry. Altair made certain to develop the design in his own time so people wouldn't have to keep cutting their fingers off."

"But before that, the Hidden Blade required a 'flick of the wrist,'" Edward explained as he held out his arm where his own hidden blade was. "By my time, the blade was developed to where you could trigger it with a clenched fist."

He demonstrated this to Desmond, and the blade went out with a snick. Desmond's eyes widened, looking at it in awe. "Whoa."

Edward grinned. "Now you try."

Desmond moved his arm, trying to copy what Edward had done, but Haytham stopped him. "Make sure you pull your hand back."

Desmond followed his instruction and clenched his fist. Nothing happened. "Really clench it," Jacob told him.

It took several tries, but then he felt his wrist muscles press against something, and the blade slipped out with a snick just like Edward's. Desmond jumped, but found himself grinning. "Neat." He suddenly remembered his father carrying a more modern bracer on both of his arms, and his stern warning to Desmond not to touch them. Now he knew why. He looked up and saw his ancestors matching his grin, even Haytham's lips were quirked upwards. He relaxed his wrist and the blade slicked back in.

"You have Ezio's original design of it, but the Hidden Blade was developed into numerous designs to help with assassinations. For instance, the 18th century French brotherhood was fond of a design that inspired the Phantom Blade," Arno explained, showing his own bracer, slightly different from Edward's.

"Cool. What's it do?" Desmond asked as he took hold of Desmond's arm to inspect it.

"Wait! Desmond don't-!" Arno tried to warn but was too late as Desmond accidentally triggered the Phantom Blade.

A dart shot out, and Haytham barely dodged it before it embedded itself into the pole right behind him. The Templar glared at Arno and Desmond while Jacob laughed. "Told ya he makes a natural Assassin."

"Sorry," Desmond apologized.

"Perhaps we should train Desmond in something else before we show him how to use a hidden blade," Haytham suggested with narrowed eyes.

"Of course, Grandmaster," Jacob said in an oversweet tone before pulling Desmond further into the yard where there was more space.

"No descendant of mine is going to go out on his own without knowing how to take care of himself," he said as they stopped and he took off his top hat. "I'm going to teach you how to be a brawler." He took off what Desmond realized were brass knuckles and anything covering his hands before putting them away in his coat.

"Now… hit me."

He was serious? Desmond fisted his hands like his father had shown him and swung towards Jacob's abdomen.

The Assassin grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. It hurt, but not badly. As quick as he was put into the lock, Jacob released him.

Desmond looked at him in surprise.

"Don't let your opponent dictate the terms of the fight. Act quick while also studying your opponent's body language. Knowing where your opponent's going to strike next will mean the difference between life or death."

They were words Desmond's father had always told him during spar sessions. Desmond never seriously took them to heart, but now seeing the unusual seriousness in the usual playful Assassin, he knew better now. After all, he knew for certain that Jacob Frye had vast experience in fights and therefore knew exactly what he was talking about.

He got into position and started to fight the Assassin. He easily blocked Desmond's hits, suggesting ways Desmond could improve his strikes. The young boy actually managed to lay a couple of hits before Jacob hit him in the jaw hard enough to make him lose his balance and fall on his behind. Desmond looked up at Jacob, surprised that he didn't hurt as he should.

"I'm dead, Lad. Don't be afraid to let loose on me. I know you can hit harder than that."

He held out his hand and after a second, Desmond took it and allowed Jacob to help him up.

They went back into sparring and for the first time ever, Desmond felt himself having fun in training.

000{{0}}000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you guys think? I felt kind of bad that I couldn't bring Kassandra into the fold so I thought making mentions of her and bringing Herodotus would help. I'll probably do a brief cameo of her sometime in the story ;-). As for the rest of it, what did you guys think?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: reference to torture.

Chapter 9

The Angels were known for many things: messengers, protectors of the innocent, and guardians. However, they were also punishers of the wicked.

Amunet with Shay and Evie made their way down the deepest bowels of the Other Side where they knew the Angels would be keeping Herod with caution.

There were dark creatures who hid in the shadows down here. Creatures that could eat souls, wait for them to grow back, and feast on them again and again. To venture down these depths was a feat that no soul would dare to do. It was not just the monsters who hid in such darkness, but a far greater evil, the fallen angel Lucifer. Any stories told about him could not do Justice in telling about his cruel methods of torture. Spirits who were beyond redemption or had broken the laws of the Other Side were tossed into Lucifer's care.

If the fate of the Living World and the life of her young descendant weren't at stake, Amunet would have gladly avoided going down to Lucifer for her entire existence. Deep down she was glad to have Shay and Evie with her as they made their way down deeper, carrying torches that waded off shadows and kept, and kept their guard up in case of an ambush.

There was a loud crunch as Amunet set her foot down. She looked to see what she had stepped on before hastily looking back up. "Do not look down," she whispered to her family members.

Her warning came too late though as the crunching sound they made caused the younger ancestors to look down, wondering what the cause was. They were horrified to see that they were walking on a pile of bones.

Evie gasped and nearly dropped her torch.

Shay gulped as he carefully lifted his foot off the skull he was standing on.

Amunet lifted her torch higher and saw piles of bones further down their cave like path. Whatever had eaten these poor souls who had wandered down here, she didn't want to find out.

"We need to keep moving," she whispered.

Shay and Evie agreed with her.

They tried to avoid stepping on any more bones, especially the skulls but it was difficult. Every crunch made Amunet wince on the inside, the fear of being caught and ending like one of them was strong. She used her Eagle Vision to help her see in the dim light. For now, she just saw the blue figures of Evie and Shay, but wait-

She stopped, noticing golden footsteps on the ground. That was a good sign. If they kept to them they should be able to make it to Lucifer's dungeon without much trouble.

Shay suddenly stopped, turning his torch behind them. "Did you hear that?"

Amunet stopped. She could.

There were whispers coming from the shadows all around them. She couldn't hear what they were saying specifically. They sounded urgent. Warning them perhaps?

Amunet carefully triggered her hidden blade, and saw Evie take out her walking stick, and Shay his sword. They didn't wait for whatever was hiding in the shadows to come after them, they ran.

Assassins don't run from danger, but whatever was down here was immortal and couldn't be killed by them, and with Desmond's deadline, they had no time to fight for their souls against such a creature.

Amunet used her Eagle Vision as they ran to help navigate the tunnels, Shay and Evie right behind her. The air was feeling warmer which meant that they were getting closer to their destination, but the whispers changed.

Instead of warning them, they sounded as if they were taunting them. "Kill! Kill!"

Amunet saw a door a few feet away from them glowing bright in her vision and opened it. As soon as the three of them were in, the door was shut and the whispers stopped.

They allowed themselves a moment of relief before pressing on. They could hear the agonizing sounds of tormented souls locked down here. They didn't dare to look inside the cells to see who was in them and what torment they were under.

They continued down the hall where they heard a man screaming bloody murder. The door it was coming from was shining in their Eagle Vision. They had made it.

However, that didn't mean success yet. If by the sounds of it, Herod was in there then there was a good chance Lucifer was in there as well, and none of them wanted to face him without caution. They carefully looked in through the cell window. Amunet could sense Evie and Shay's horror without looking at them. She herself had lived in a time where public displays of gruesome death were common: the wars she fought in, the crucifixions, and the gladiator fights where people died for the amusement of others. She had watched through her daughter Bennu's eyes the cruelty Herod I had inflicted upon his people, and had been satisfied with his death. But the torment he was under would have made even her weak to the stomach if she had been living.

Herod was hanging upside down, nailed in a crucified manner above a pool of green water Amunet recognized from the Styx, his clothing drenched in blood, most specifically around his groin area, and at the edge of the pool, close enough to look him in the eye was a creature that was part lion, part hippo, and part crocodile Amunet recognized as Ammit from the stories she read as a child. Behind Ammit was a man she realized had to be Lucifer. Lucifer had a handsome face that modern world society would describe as "bad boy handsome" but unlike other angels who wore white robes, he wore a modern black suit. He held up a scroll and was looking at it with such casualness he could have just been a modern business man if it wasn't for the horrifying sight before him.

The dark Angel tutted. "Well, well, Herod old boy, this does not look good for you. Killing your wife and sons, ordering the slaughter of children, and from the looks of it, a whole bunch of atrocities I haven't gotten to yet, and when you died, you were given the opportunity to work for your repentance and move on to the Afterlife. However, it seems you have been spending too much time with the bad crowd. What say you?"

The former king cried in agony.

Lucifer nodded. "Of course. You know you've broken your penitence which means you will be thrown into the Styx anyway. It's only a matter of how much pain you will be in before that." He paused, rolling up his scroll. "But we have guests, who would like to talk to you before we do so. Don't you Amunet of Alexandria, Shay Patrick Cormac, and Evelyn Cecily Frye-Green?"

The three of them jumped back as the door swung open. They should have known nothing happens in Lucifer's territory without him knowing about it. They kept their guard up as they entered the cell, Ammit turning to them and growling.

"Easy Girl. It's not often we have guests who dare to enter our domain," Lucifer soothed.

Amunet thought that she had seen true evil before, but she was wrong. He was standing before her with a little amusement at her, Shay, and Evie, but overall his body language spoke of indifference to the pain he gave.

"Well? Go on and ask your questions."

The three of them silently communicated in a single look: Shay would be the one to question Herod while Evie kept an eye on Ammit, and Amunet on Lucifer.

Shay bent down and began to gently question the poor man. The king had begged for water, and with a puff of smoke, Lucifer produced a sponge of vinegar. It was bitter, but the moisture was enough to help Herod speak. He told them of how Cain had recruited him after his death with the promise of returning to the Living World when the time was right, how he had recruited practically everybody working towards penintence, the places he was familiar with on the Other Side, but no specific place where he usually hid, and that was all he knew he swore.

"There. Was that so hard now?" Lucifer asked with a malicious grin. He pulled a lever and before the former king could cry out, he splashed into the pool below him.

Seeing someone fall into the Styx was horrifying to watch. The water smelled of acic. When the surface broke, souls immediately tried to climb out but were prevented by the other souls pulling them down and trying to get themselves out, their faces shrunken and their hands bonelike. But it was the screams that were the worst part. The blood curdling and agonizing screams that struck Amunet, Evie, and Shay that they were forced to turn away, one of them even covering their ears in a desperate attempt to block out the screams and the sight of the poor soul who had fallen in, pleading for help before he vanished under the surface with the other lost souls. When the waters stilled and the screams died down, did Amunet finally look back at Lucifer who was looking at her, Shay, and Evie with indifference. If he were mortal, Amunet would have gladly slit his throat with her blade.

"Would any of you care to join me for a cup of tea? It's extremely rare that I have guests who haven't been mauled by the demons outside my dungeons."

Amunet would have rather drank a bucket of piss. "We'll have to pass," she coldly told him.

"We're under a very tight deadline," Evie's tone told him of her disgust.

Lucifer shrugged. "Just as well. You all have a lot of searching to do, and I've no doubt you'll find Cain eventually. When you find him, tell him I want my pets he stole from me years ago."

"We'll be sure to pass the message," Shay said with narrowed eyes.

With that, the two Assassins and Templar began their way out of Lucifer's domain.

"Next time we have to come back down here, please don't invite me to join your group," Shay said to Amunet to which she promised.

She had no intention of ever coming back down here if she could help it.

000{*}}000

As agreed, they all were to meet back up at the Farm where there were fewer eyes on them and Desmond as they reconvened.

Amunet's group was the last to arrive. The sun was nearly gone and stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky, but there was still plenty of light and people on the Farm were beginning to light lanterns. Amunet found the rest of her family outside her descendant's front yard and was surprised by what she saw.

Desmond was sparring with Edward using one of the pirate's cutlasses while the rest of the ancestors were gathered around them, watching.

"What's this?" Amunet asked as soon as she reached them.

Jacob turned to them with an almost sheepish expression. "Well… we tried to teach Desmond how to use a hidden blade until he nearly took Haytham out with Arno's phantom blade, then I tried to teach him some brawling moves, but…"

"But then Edward thought that Desmond needed to work on his speed and balance and thought sword fighting would be a good exercise," Arno finished.

"Good. Very good," Edward praised as Desmond blocked him.

"Move your feet," Altair told Desmond as he parried Edward's attacks.

Amunet had to admit, the boy was good when he put his mind to it. He had potential. It brought to her mind memories of training in her own time, training under Bayek and his father, and training her own novices. She turned to her husband. "Did you learn anything from the Hall of Memories?"

"A little. Leonardo directed us to the historian Herodotus who was able to tell us some of Cain's history and what we can expect from him. You?"

"Herod was able to give us some information before he was thrown into the Styx, mostly about Cain's allies and the places he frequently visits." Amunet listed the places.

Everyone listened as they watched Edward and Desmond continue their sparring.

"Did you mention the Sinful Bliss?" Arno asked.

"Yes. Why?"

The Sinful Bliss was an establishment where souls went to seek… carnal pleasures they missed feeling. It was a highly frowned upon place by the Angels, but most of its patrons were spirits seeking pleasures before moving on or signing their penintence agreement. It was better than seeking carnal pleasures on the living.

Arno looked uncomfortable. "I… may know someone who is a… frequent patron there."

"It wouldn't happen to be Marquis de Sade would it?" Ezio asked with a teasing grin.

Arno glared fiercely at the Italian. "He spends most of his time at the Sinful Bliss, but when it's nighttime in Paris he likes to go up there and see the… modern nightlife."

It would be the middle of the night in France which meant that the Marquis would be there instead of the Other Side. aside from Arno none of them had any strong ties to the country and only a couple of them had any descendants there right now. They were better off waiting the next few hours for when the Marquis would return to the Other Side. They would decide from there.

They returned their attention to the sparring match when Edward's cutlass slid down Desmond's and accidentally nicked his hand. The boy dropped his sword with a painful shout. Edward stopped the fight, and looked at him with worried concern. "Sorry. Are you alright?"

Desmond answered with a hard kick to the shin. It didn't hurt him so much as surprised him that Desmond was able to catch him off guard and tackle him to the ground. The ancestors watched in amusement as Edward laughed while their young descendant fought to keep him pinned down. He may have been young and half Edward's size, but he was stubborn and had a lot of energy.

"Alright Desmond. That's enough." Haytham moved to pull Desmond off his father, but as soon as he touched his shoulder, Desmond quickly grabbed his booted foot and yanked it. The action caused the Templar Grandmaster to lose his balance and he fell flat on his back.

Now the whole Miles clan was laughing. Jacob was practically rolling on the ground with Ezio near him, wheezing. Altair was trying to hide a smile. Evie was actually giggling. Shay and Arno were, believe it or not, holding each other up as they laughed together. And Connor couldn't hide his mirth with his hands over his mouth. Amunet found herself smiling as she exchanged a look with her husband who was laughing as well. When was the last time they had all shared a laugh such as this instead of focusing on their descendants and trying not to let old animosities and different views interfere? Even Haytham, once he had thrown a glare at everyone let out a couple of chuckles.

Bayek chuckled as he approached Desmond and offered his hand. The boy took it and allowed Bayek to hoist him up to his feet.

"Not bad. I can already see an improvement in your fighting," the medjai commented.

Desmond felt his cheeks flushing from embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You've seen me training?"

"We make sure to see all of our descendants in their training whether for the Creed or the Templar cause," Amunet answered him.

"You have potential in being a good fighter, but you lack focus," Altair explained.

Desmond rolled his eyes. "Can we please not talk about that? I deal with that enough with my dad. Can we just talk about Cain? Did you find anything on him?"

Bayek allowed the subject change to happen. The subject on fighting was over, for now.

"We met with Leonardo who was unable to tell us anything, but he pointed us to Herodotus," he saw Amunet, Evie, and even Haytham's eyes light up with interest. He described what Herodotus had told them of Cain's history.

"You said he spent centuries plotting his attack on his former people?" Evie asked, her mind racing to all she had known and studied throughout her existence.

"How does somebody live that long?" Desmond asked. The oldest person he knew on the Farm was Dr. Anderson who was seventy, and he remembered one of the kids he trained with, their grandfather passing away at sixty-seven a couple of years ago. The hard life of an Assassin catching up to him, he had heard his father say. Desmond didn't know how long a person was supposed to live, but centuries was unrealistic to him.

Shay explained it to him. "Growing up, the church told stories of men who lived for several centuries even to a thousand years at the beginning of time."

Altair continued. "The Ones Who Came Before, the Isu were beings who lived longer than the average human being. Adam and Eve were hybrids created by the Isu experimenting in combining Isu and human DNA, and after the Great Catastrophe, the surviving Isu and humans mated with one another in order to survive. Perhaps in the beginning, humans were able to live longer due to the Isu DNA in their veins, but after so many generations of intermarrying, the lifespan began to shorten. Cain would have only been a second generation of the Isu-hybrids which would have allowed him to live for centuries in good physical condition."

"What does that say about his plans though?" Desmond asked.

"It tells us that Cain is a patient man when it comes to plots. He's most likely been planning for this opportunity ever since his death seventy-six thousands years ago, which means he will have planned on how to stay hidden until the third sunrise when he can return to the Living World in your stead," Altair told him.

That was comforting.

"Unfortunately, it seems our only hope in finding him stems from Arno's perverted friend in a dead brothel," Haytham said, garnering a deadly glare from Arno.

"I've told you before, he's not and never has been my friend. More like an annoying acquaintance I was forced to tolerate due to the helpful information he would give me. Want me to bring up your unsavory friends?"

Haytham was ready to throw back at him and argue, but Desmond spoke up. "What's a brothel?"

All his ancestors froze, and Desmond thought he saw a flash of panic and mortification flash in all of his ancestors' faces. Several of them coughed and a few even tried to laugh uncomfortably to defuse the awkwardness.

"Haytham, since you're the one who kindly brought it up, why don't you explain to our descendant what it is?" Edward suggested.

Haytham looked at his father in horror. "What?!"

"Oh for pity's sake!" Jacob interjected.

"Si," Ezio agreed. "If Haytham tells Desmond, the boy will have a completely different perspective on what it actually is."

"Is it a bad place?" Desmond asked.

"Not… necessary it depends on the establishment. It's where people go to spend time with girls… or boys, depending on your preference," Ezio explained.

"So it's a hangout place," Desmond guessed.

"You could say that," Jacob answered.

"But it's also the perfect place to learn information that could be useful," Ezio added in.

"And this… guy Arno knows spends time there?" Desmond asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. Thankfully though you don't have to worry about meeting him," Arno answered him.

"Why? Is he a bad person?"

Several members of the family grimaced before Arno replied. "He's… someone I wouldn't want you to be around if I could help it."

"It's nearly dark," Connor announced. The sun had just about completely disappeared, leaving only the moon and stars.

"Some of us will leave in a few hours and seek de Sade. Desmond, how are you feeling?" Bayek asked.

Desmond was taken aback for a second. "Honestly? I feel alright. I don't even feel cold."

Which was weird, considering that it was cold enough to begin snowing now. His body didn't even ache from all the mishaps he had been in the last forty-eight hours.

"Well, when you're dead you don't tend to feel the cold or heat like you used to when you were alive," Jacob said. Evie smacked him upside the head. Well that was encouraging.

"Roll up your sleeves," Amunet told him. "Let's see how your body is right now."

To see if he was turning into an actual ghost right now in other words.

Horror filled Desmond as he saw his arms up to his elbows transparent.

"That's not good," Edward voiced for them.

Desmond reached down his legs and pulled his pants up to his knees where they were transparent as well.

"That's not good at all," Shay whispered.

Desmond looked at them desperately. "How long will it take you guys to talk to Arno's friend?"

Everyone grimaced.

"He won't be back till one in the morning here. The few of us who can actually go to Paris will be spending all night trying to look for him," Arno explained.

"I know it's difficult not to worry," Bayek said to him, placing a hand on the frightened boy's shoulder. "But you can't let the fear control you."

"Easy for you to say," Desmond said, pushing his pant legs back down and walking away from them. Why was this happening? It felt like he was in one of those make believe stories they told around the fire. It was unrealistic.

He could faintly hear his ancestors talking as he walked closer to the forest treeline surrounding the Farm. He looked into the dark shadows he had always been scared of for as long as he could remember when he sensed it. It wasn't an owl, or a deer, or even a wolf that he sensed was watching from the woods but something else. Something that wasn't a wild animal. Something more… sinister. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see better in the dark when his vision changed. The shadows became gray instead of dark, outlining trees and bushes he couldn't see in the dark. Unlike the other times when his strange vision caused him problems, he felt as if this time it was trying to warn him.

That's when he saw it.

A blood red figure coming out of the shadows. It's hood covered most of its features but it was close enough for Desmond to see its teeth peeking out from the shadows. Fear had nearly frozen Desmond on the spot even as his senses screamed at him Danger! Run! The foul acid breath that reminded him of the Styx River is what snapped him and caused to turn around to run. He didn't even make it a step when he felt his foot be pulled out from under him, causing him to fall on his stomach. He could feel his heart pounding as he felt the clawed hands around his ankle, and he let out the biggest scream he had ever mustered in his life.

Every ancestor of the Miles Clan jumped at Desmond's terrified screams, and turned to see their descendant being dragged by his ankle into the woods by a shadowed figure. Fear and horror ran through their beings before they took off after them. Desperation filled them to save Desmond from whatever creature was daring to take him from them.

"Help me! Help me!" Desmond screamed. He could see his ancestors running after him as whatever monster was dragging him deep into the woods. Their figures were blue in his strange vision, but he could see the fear on all their faces as they chased after him and the creature. His hands reached out desperately to grab something, but with his hands now transparent he was having trouble grabbing anything solid. He knew he had to focus, but it was hard when fear coursed through his body. He suddenly remembered his dad telling him that he would find himself in a tight spot where he would be afraid. He had told him that the fear would be a good thing because it would tell him to be cautious, but the important thing was to not let it fester into panic where it would cause him to freeze and do something drastic in a desperate attempt to survive. "That's what will get you killed," William had said to his son. So Desmond, even while he was being dragged through bushes and briars in the forest, shoved his panic down just enough for him to focus when his hand hooked itself around a tree root sticking out from the ground. He clung desperately to it even as the creature pulled with such force Desmond felt he was going to be ripped in two. But his survival instincts kept him from letting go. Then he did what children do when they're scared: they scream for their parents.

"Daddy help me!"

"Hang on Desmond I'm coming!"

That voice sounded so much like his father's that Desmond almost let go of the root in surprise, but when he looked up, he saw no sign of his father deep in the woods. He saw his ancestors getting closer and closer to where he could see the fierce determination in them to show that they weren't going to stop. It gave him a spark of hope, but then he felt his grip beginning to slip, and heard the angry growl from the monster that chilled his blood.

The angry growls became pained, and the grip on Desmond's ankle loosened a bit. He looked down to see two arrows buried in the clawed hands gripping Desmond's ankle. It pulled suddenly and Desmond's hands slipped from the root and he hit his head hard on the ground. The last thing he remembered was the loud bang of three gunshots, the creature's howls, and two strong arms wrapping themselves around him protectively.

"Dad?" he whispered.

Then darkness.

000{{*}}000

William woke from his desk and jumped to his feet. Adrenaline surged through him as he grabbed his sidearm and ran out of his office.

Desmond!

He startled Gavin who was in the hallway, running him down with such force the poor man didn't have a chance to move out of the way, but William didn't stop. His son needed him!

He ran outside, ignoring his wife and his best friend shouting for him.

"William!"

"Bill!"

He ran past startled Assassins returning from their searches, and past the neighboring houses, heading towards the woods.

"Desmond!" He screamed as he neared towards the treeline. His son was in danger. "Hang on Desmond I'm coming!"

He was almost there when a force collided from behind him, ramming him into the ground. He fought and cursed the person to hell. He needed to get to Desmond!

"Bill calm down!"

He didn't register the person holding him down. He fought, desperate to get to his child. The person holding him tried to wrestle the gun off of him. He pulled the trigger and the gunshot echoed in the night air.

There were shouts and curses.

"Someone get the fucking sedatives!"

The gun was gone, so William turned to his hidden blades. The snick caused the person holding him to jump back, knowing all too well how deadly William was with his blades.

William roared. "I heard him! He needs me!"

He didn't care who he had to kill. He already failed Desmond once, he wouldn't do it again!

He was about to head into the woods when he felt a sharp prick to the back of his neck. He turned around, feeling the sedative drugs quickly working through his body. He saw everyone on the Farm surrounding him and looking at him in fear and worry. He saw Gavin nursing a bloody nose, and looking at him in concern. Finally, he saw his wife, Elizabeth, guilt in her eyes as tears shed from them, and in her hand was a sedative shot.

Betrayal, guilt, and despair flooded him along with the pain of failure.

"Desmond…"

Then darkness.

000{{*}}000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit shorter than expected, but I'm hoping to get the next chapter up much sooner. The part of Desmond being taken was inspired by the scene in Jeepers Creepers 2 when the monster takes Billy in the first scene. Let me know what you guys think.


	10. chapter 10: Dream Sequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took longer than expected. This is probably the longest chapter I’ve written in a while. I’ve been wanting to write a chapter like this for a while now, and with Thanksgiving coming up I think it’s appropriate. Both of my families have cancelled Thanksgiving due to the Covid outbreaks happening in our area. My aunt and cousin are recovering from the Covid, one of my uncles passed away because the hospital let him out too early and didn’t give him enough oxygen, another uncle of mine has Covid, and my cousins are in quarantine waiting for results to see if they have it or not. So for my family and all the other families who can’t be together during this troubling time, I like to dedicate this chapter to them. I hope everyone enjoys it.

Chapter 10: Dream Sequence

Jerusalem, 1209

Altair blended in the crowds of the market, his eyes focused on two individuals. The two of them hid in the shade from the hot sun, their eyes watching the vendor selling bread across from them.  
Altair was sitting on one of the benches, shoulders hunched as if he was waiting for someone as he kept an eye on the two. They were both young, in their early teens. The younger of the two had lighter skin than most people here in the market with a mix of Syrian and English features and a pair of golden eyes. He seemed to be the more anxious of the two, rocking on the heels of his feet nervously. The older of the two seemed bored as he leaned against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His features were similar to the other boy’s that they easily marked him as his brother.  
“When Maria told me that you were taking Darim and Sef to Jerusalem to spend time with them, I doubt this is what she had in mind.”  
Altair turned his head to see his best friend and right hand join him. A smile appeared on his scarred lips. “It’s good to see you too, Malik.”  
Malik rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face as he sat down next to Altair. He nodded his head towards the two boys. “May I ask what you are doing here while your sons are over there, looking as if they’re about to rob someone?”  
Altair was silent for a moment. “Do you remember Jabir?”  
Malik’s eyes became solemn. “Jabir al-Dhuki? Yes, he was a good man and a good Assassin. He died almost a year ago I believe.”   
“One week from today by the hands of slavers,” Altair confirmed. “His wife died shortly afterwards. Broken heart, or so they say.”  
“What does this have to do with you and your sons?” Malik asked, curious.  
“Jabir had a child around Darim’s age. Before he went out on his last mission, he asked me to bring them into the Brotherhood and watch over them. I’ve finally found word that they live somewhere here in Jerusalem, but love to visit the marketplace frequently. Darim and Sef have been complaining about being cooped up in Masyaf, so Maria convinced me to take them with me.”  
“Twelve and fourteen-year-olds? Your children?” Malik asked with a raised eyebrow.  
Altair shrugged. “It gets them out of Masyaf and into the real world for a while. This is an easy mission, just to find someone. No death. No trouble. Besides, it’s a good way for Darim and Sef to practice their observation skills, practice patience in waiting for your target, and get some real world exposure.” And get him away from the Apple of Eden. Altair had to admit, it was nice to be out and about with his boys, and seeing to their training. Even though he loved spending time with his family, he still felt the calling to go back to the Apple and continue studying it. Yes, this break would be good for him.  
“I wouldn’t be so concerned if it wasn’t your sons. Like you, trouble follows them,” Malik said.  
“That’s why I’m hiding nearby in case there is. Nothing will go wrong though.”  
“Are you sure about that?” Malik nodded towards his sons’ direction.  
Altair followed his gaze. A young person, a teenager most likely, dressed as a boy stood close to the vendor’s stall of bread, eyeing it and the vendor as he talked to someone. Altair used his special vision to see the person in gold. They had found them. He looked at his sons, still worried and bored, but keeping an eye on the stall.  
Darim stood taller, interest beginning to creep in his eyes as he watched the young teenager steal a piece of bread. But before they could leave, the vendor grabbed the teenager’s arm, and pulled them roughly back and shouted at them.  
Altair winced in sympathy. To be caught stealing, the penalty was to lose a hand. He had no doubt the teenager was Jabir’s child, and he was ready to step in if it came to that, but he needed to watch and see how his sons dealt with the situation.  
Darim came up to the vendor and seemed to be doing some smooth talking.  
Altair’s lip curled upwards. His son had practiced smooth talking his way out of many punishments in Masyaf.  
Sef took a piece of jewelry out of the teenager’s pocket and handed it to Darim despite the teenager’s protests.  
Malik leaned closer to whisper. “You did tell them Jabir’s child was a girl, correct?”  
Altair didn’t answer, his attention on Darim as the boy seemed to give it to the vendor, but with a slighted hand, switched it with an apple he had on him into the vendor’s pocket. The brothers took the teenager away from the now satisfied vendor, and headed in the direction of the Assassin bureau.  
“Wait for it,” Malik said, watching as the vendor realized what had actually happened and called for the guards.  
The three children took off, slipping through the crowds and down alleyways.  
The one-arm Assassin chuckled. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed and amused.”  
Altair grinned. “They still have much to learn, but I am pleased to see how they respond on their own.”  
“One of the most important lessons I have seen since you became Mentor is teaching our novices how to think on their own. I see this is what you were planning for Darim and Sef when you took them on this mission. It was good for them,” Malik commented.  
Altair nodded. “Thank you, brother. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go find them. I have no doubt that they’ll escape from the guards, but just to be certain…”  
“Of course, I will see you at the bureau.”

<<000{{*}}000>>

Florence, 1524  
The night air was cool as Ezio sat on the rooftop of his home. It had been two days since the house invasion, and two days since Shao Yun had left to return to China to rebuild the Assassins there. In that time Ezio’s family had returned after he, with the help of other Assassins, had buried the dead, cleaned up the mess, and repaired the damage the Chinese Templars had caused. He did not want his wife and children to return home to all the carnage.  
Now was the first moment in days since Shao Yun had come that he had been able to relax without any tension.  
A thud from the side of the house caught Ezio’s hearing. It could have been an animal, but then he heard a cry that was definitely not an animal.  
“PAPA!”  
He immediately went over to the edge of the roof, looked down, and saw his eleven-year-old daughter, Flavia hanging half-way up the side of the house.  
“Help me! I can’t get up!”  
Fear caused Ezio’s heart to beat painfully in his chest as he moved closer to reach his daughter. His muscles were old, but still strong enough to grab Flavia’s hand and lift her the rest of the way onto the roof to safety.  
“What were you thinking?! Climbing up the side of the side of the house like that?” he scolded.  
Flavia bit her lip and Ezio could see tears shining down her cheeks in the moonlight. She was dressed only in her nightgown, and she was shivering. Ezio wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him as he sat back down on the roof.  
“You frightened me a great deal, Tesoro, seeing you hanging like that. The fall might not have killed you, but it would have hurt you a great deal,” he told her more gently.  
“I’m sorry, Papa,” Flavia hiccupped.   
They sat there for a few moments, Ezio holding her, and rubbing her back as he kept her warm from the cold.  
“Now, what are you doing up at this hour?” Ezio asked.  
His daughter looked up at him, the moon shining on her dark brown eyes. “I had a nightmare.”  
“Of what?”  
“The bad men came back and took you, and Mama, and Marcello,” Flavia whispered as she wrapped her arms around Ezio’s neck and buried her face in his chest.  
Ezio felt his arms tighten around his daughter protectively. It had always been a great fear of his ever since he’d married Sofia and retired from the life of an Assassin that the Templars and all the enemies he had gathered over the years would come after his family. Especially now that he was older, and could barely help with the harvest without going into a coughing fit. His body still ached from the fight he put up a couple of days ago. If another attack were to happen in the future he worried that he would be unable to protect his family on his own.  
He listened as Flavia continued talking. “When we were staying at Uncle Nicolo’s, Aunt Claudia came to visit. At night, I heard her talking to Uncle Nicolo and Mama that she was afraid that you would be taken like Grandfather, Uncle Federico, and Uncle Petruccio.”  
Ezio felt his heart stop at the mention of his father and brothers. Even after five decades, the pain of their loss was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. He could still remember Petruccio’s innocent smiles, Federico’s teasing, Father’s kind words of wisdom, the sway of the rope… Ezio shut his eyes, and took a deep breath to steady himself.  
“Flavia,” he spoke, looking down at her. “I can’t promise that I will be here forever, but I can promise that I will never truly leave you.”  
“Hai promesso?”  
“Lo prometto. You’re my brave little girl,” Ezio tweaked her nose, causing Flavia to giggle. Ezio smiled, standing up on the roof, and holding tight to his daughter’s hand lest she fall. “Now, let’s get you back to bed before your mother comes looking for us. She’ll have my head if she finds out what you had been up to.  
Flavia Auditore’s giggles echoed in the night air.

<<000{{*}}000>>

Aquila, 1778  
The seas were quiet at night. Most of the crew were below deck, exhausted after a day of fighting traitors, securing stolen supplies, and repairing damages that the ship had obtained during battle. Some were still above deck to help maintain and steer the ship at night.  
Haytham Kenway was exhausted, but he felt no desire to go to his bunk yet. After months of hunting down the traitor Benjamin Church, he felt a lot of the tension and stress that had built up in him had been released after killing the fallen Templar today.   
He looked up and saw the Aquila’s captain manning the helm at the first watch tonight.  
Connor Kenway, his son.  
Haytham had to admit it, the boy had done well today. Destroying Church’s ships, fighting his crew, and ultimately killing Church himself while also keeping a good control over his emotions. Even though the boy looked as though he had wanted to throw Haytham overboard for taking control of the Aquila and damaging it to where they were lucky it still held together.  
Haytham climbed to the quarterdeck to stand beside Connnor, hands clasped behind his back as the wind caused his cloak to flutter.   
“Connor,” Haytham nodded.  
“Father,” the boy replied with cool politeness.  
The deck hands could be heard singing a tune, the breeze carrying their words over to father and son.  
“I dreamed a dream the other night  
Lowlands, lowlands away me John.  
My love she came all dressed in white  
Lowlands away.”  
The song brought nostalgia to Haytham. Memories of his father and sailing the seas with Shay hit him before he could stop them. He sighed, his eyes closed. A memory of his father playing this tune on piano came to his mind.  
“Is there a problem?” Connor’s voice broke through the memory.  
Haytham opened his eyes. “No, none at all.”  
They were silent, listening to the men’s faded song and the wind blowing.  
Haytham took a glance at Connor on the helm. Instead of his usual white Assassin robes, his son was dressed in a deep blue captain’s uniform with a tricorn hat. His skin was fairer than the average native and with his strong English features he could pass himself off as a gentleman. He certainly reminded Haytham of himself when he was his age as well as his lover, Ziio. He could also see a bit of his father in the boy which was surprising. Personality speaking, the two of them couldn’t have been more different. Where Connor was shy and quiet, Edward Kenway had been boisterous and free-spirited. They were both strong leaders of their men and were both in their element while at sea. Haytham had the feeling that Edward would have adored and been proud of his grandson.  
“When I was a boy, my father… your grandfather would sing this song,” Haytham admitted. He felt Connor looking at him from the corner of his eye.  
“Edward Kenway, the pirate?” the younger man asked.  
Haytham looked at him, surprised. “You know about him?”  
His son looked embarrassed. “I… when Achilles and Charles Dorian began our training, they wanted us to study the history of the Assassins. When Catherine heard about an Edward Kenway, she got me interested in learning more about him. He sailed in Nassau during the early 1700s when piracy was at its finest didn’t he?”  
Haytham covered up his surprise and nodded. “Yes, although when he was alive I didn’t know about that. I knew him as the man who gave me my first sword and taught me how to fight, who told me stories without telling what they really were.”  
“I remember asking Mister Faulkner about him once to see what he had heard about him, and he said that he was a mad bastard who ever sailed the seven seas,” Connor said to which Haytham chuckled, surprising his son.  
“He probably was. I learned about his past when I was older, and read his journal.”  
They lapsed into silence.  
“I don’t know how I would have reacted to him, but I wish I could have known him,” Connor spoke solemnly.  
“So do I, Connor,” Haytham agreed, his heart heavy. “So do I.”  
They were Templar and Assassin, enemies who allied only to destroy a traitor. Haytham wondered if things would have been different if… his father hadn’t died? If he’s known about Connor before? If they were on the same side? ‘Damn you Ziio. You should have told me about the boy.’ As much as he wanted to blame his former love, he could not. Better to silently mourn what might have been now. Their truce wouldn’t last forever. He had to accept the fact that his duty to the Order would require him to kill his own son if he could not be swayed. But not tonight. Tonight he would indulge himself this one occasion to feel like a true father.  
“Lowlands,” a deep voice broke his thoughts.  
He turned his head in surprise at Connor.  
His son kept his gaze ahead. “Lowlands away me John.”  
He never heard his son sing before. He didn’t think he could, but the half-mohawk and half-Englishman’s voice reminded Haytham of songs he had heard from the men of Ziio’s tribe. It was… nice.  
“She made no sound  
No word she said.”  
“Lowlands, lowlands away me John,” Haytham joined, surprising Connor.  
“And then I knew my love was dead  
Lowlands away.”

<<000{{*}}000>>

Davenport Homestead, 1796  
Connor stepped outside to assist in the training.   
It was a beautiful day. The sun was out and there was a cool breeze from the ocean. Perfect day to be training. He looked around the grounds, seeing novices perform different tasks whether target practicing, sparring, sharpening weapons, or any activities that could come in handy on the field.  
Since the war, with the Templar Order all but destroyed, Connor with the help of his wife had been able to rebuild the Assassins in the American colonies. They had recruited over a dozen people into their Order, and their European brothers and sisters had even sent a few recruits to help with the reestablishment. It had kept both Connor and Catherine busy, especially with their growing family. Connor usually took the brunt in training the novices with Catherine keeping in touch of political and Assassin affairs whether here in the colonies or in Europe along with keeping an ear out for word on Pieces of Eden. After learning from Achilles’ mistakes and from the incident when General Washington had given them the Apple of Eden, they didn’t want to take any chances of someone, whether Assassin, Templar, or civilian finding a Piece of Eden and using it to harm people whether intentional or not. Today however, Catherine was taking a break from all her paperwork to enjoy the nice weather and assist in the training.   
She was with their eldest daughter Kahsemenhawe or Ava since most people had trouble pronouncing her Mohawk name, and she was showing her how to hold her old friend Orla, a golden eagle. Since he had known Catherine, she had a special bond with birds, especially Orla. not only because of their many years together and the adventures they shared, but she had also been a gift to Catherine from her mentor Charles Dorian, and ever since word of his death had reached them, the bird had become all the more precious to her. Catherine showed her daughter how to position her hand and arm as Orla perched comfortably on her mistress’ arm.  
Connor saw that his son Tekaranhio:ken or Dorian was on the ground next to Mister Faulkner. The old sea dog had retired years ago and was now teaching the young boy how to tie knots, determined to turn the boy into a sea lover like he did his parents.  
Connor walked closer to the end of the training grounds where novices were target practicing. A young dark haired girl with skin fairer than her father’s ran up to Connor, grinning in excitement.   
Connor couldn’t help but smile back.  
Today he would be teaching Io:nhiote or Iris how to shoot a bow and arrow. He had taken her hunting a few weeks ago because he had suspected that his youngest had the natural ability of Eagle Vision like many grown Assassins. The hunt had proven that she not only had it, but that she also possessed the even rarer ability to see through a bird’s eye just like her mother Catherine could. Since then he had been teaching her how to use it with help from his wife. He had fashioned her a bow for her size. Soon he would teach her how to make her own.  
“Remember Io:nhiote, keep your body aligned with the bow,” Connor instructed.  
Her right arm was shaking as she pulled the arrow back. Several of her arrows had fallen short from the target, and now, she was trying to pull as close to her cheek as she could with her father gently instructing her. She let go, but her aim had been too high. It soared over the target and into the woods.  
“I missed,” she said, disappointed.  
“Go fetch it then,” Catherine, who had crept up on them gently told her, taking her bow.  
The eight-year-old girl went off into the woods to retrieve her arrow.  
Catherine looked at Connor and smiled.   
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close, his heart light and happy.

<<000{{*}}000>>

Queen Anne’s Square, 1735  
It was late, but Edward couldn’t sleep. His mind was full of chaotic thoughts. The Assassins and Templars, the search for Precursor artifacts, his daughter’s courtship with Birch, Haytham’s training, but most of all, the absence of friends.  
Today marked the fourteenth anniversary of his old friend, Mary Read’s death. The date had snuck up on him when he read the paper this morning and saw the date. He had been distracted while training Haytham until he had dismissed him to go play, and had told his valet Jack not to disturb him while he locked himself in his game room and lamented.  
With the memories of Mary, came all the other memories of Thatch, Vane, Rackham, and all the other friends he had lost back in his pirate days. He still kept in touch with Adewale and Anne though courier, but it had been years since he had seen them.  
After hours of brooding he had finally come out. He had taken an old sword and gone to the ballroom where there was more space. He held his sword up in a salute, taking a deep breath before letting himself loose. He lost himself in a flurry of parries and thrusts he had learned from his years of piracy and as an Assassin. The full moon’s light illuminated through the ballroom’s windows and he could see his shadow mirroring his dance.  
He heard a sound and stopped. He spun around and pointed his sword toward the entrance to see Haytham jump back, colliding with his sister who had been holding a candle. The two of them fell backwards with a cry, Jennifer dropping her candle as they landed hard on the ground. The candle went out, and Edward heard his daughter swear an oath that she must have heard him mutter at some point. He lowered his sword and approached them.  
“What are you two doing out of bed?” he asked, holding out his hand.  
Haytham took it and allowed his father to help him back on his feet, but when he offered it to Jenny, the young woman ignored it and picked herself up.  
“You disappeared after training. Not even Mother or Jack have seen you,” Haytham answered. “Are you angry with us?”  
His son sounded scared and worried. Edward looked at him in surprise. “What? No! What the- I mean- why on earth would you think that?”  
Jennifer rolled her eyes in the moonlight. “That’s what I told the little devil, but he insisted on checking up on you.”  
As much as she tried to come off as uncaring, Edward could tell that she was worried as well. It bothered him how distant they had become. They use to be close but ever since he had begun Haytham’s training, Jennifer had become resentful when Edward had refused to train her as well. It wasn’t that Edward loved Haytham more than her. He loved them both equally. His Jenny was a beautiful woman with the fire and spirit of a true Assassin, but she reminded him too much of the many strong and brave women he had loved and lost.  
Her mother, Caroline Scott who had defied society’s expectations and married a scoundrel beneath her class, and raised a child on her own for several years.  
Anne Bonny, his quartermaster who barked loudly at men and fought just as valiantly as them.  
Mary Read, who disguised herself as a man, led men into battle, and made herself into a pirate legend.  
Brave and strong women, all three of them just like his daughter, but women who had gone through pain and suffering because of it.  
Caroline left to die by her own father.  
Anne losing her lover, friend, and her own son.  
Mary dying from childbirth fever, her last moments spent in a hell of a prison.  
Jennifer struggled enough in society due to Edward’s history and her choice to use her mother’s surname. Edward had not been able to protect Mary and Anne from the painthey’d endured, or provide Caroline the stability she needed, but he’d be damned if he failed to protect Jenny. Marriage to Birch would provide her a stable living and protect her from the whispers of Edward Kenway’s scandalous past.  
“Today’s the anniversary a dear friend of mine passed away a long time ago. They were one who helped to straighten my arse and stop being a bloody fool,” Edward explained to them.  
Both of his children’s eyes widened, but then softened in understanding, Haytham coming over to hug his father around his waist. Edward ran a hand through the lad’s dark hair, and shared a nod with Jenny.  
An idea suddenly popped into his head. “I want to show you both something.”  
His children followed him curiously as they crept down the halls, through the kitchens, and out into the gardens. Edward had taken a blanket with them to lay on the damp grass. His children were in their nightgowns and he didn’t want to risk either of them catching a cold. They laid out on it with Jenny and Haytham on either side of Edward. The night sky in London wasn’t as good as the open sea was but Edward could still see the stars.  
“See there?” he asked, pointing to a cluster of stars. “That’s the Aquila. See the wings and the tail?”   
He went on pointing out to several constellations, telling the stories behind them, and how they helped in navigation. Haytham asked a bunch of questions, and even Jenny asked a few to which Edward was happy to answer. As the night went on, Edward realized that both of his children had fallen asleep on his sides. They had both curled up and wrapped their arms around him for warmth, each of them snoring softly.  
Edward felt his heart lifted for the first time since this morning. He’ll have to wake Jenny and carry Haytham back to bed, but not now. For now, he would pull them in close, protect them, and warm them.  
The servants ended up finding them all asleep in the gardens at the early hours of the morning.

<<000{{*}}000>>

New york, 1759  
Shay woke to a small body landing on him in bed. His first instinct had been to reach out for his knife to take out who had disturbed him. It lasted for only a second when he registered who the intruder was as they lightly bounced on him.  
Shay grunted as they hit a small injury he had gotten on his side a couple of days ago. “Careful, little un’. We don’t want to wake your mum up yet,” he nodded to his wife on the other side of the bed.  
The bouncing stopped.  
Rose Cormac was still recovering from the injuries she had sustained over a week ago, fighting off Assassins and escaping with her daughter to find Shay at the Templar headquarters in New York.   
Their little daughter Catherine looked down at him with the big brown eyes she had inherited from him. “I want to go to the beach. Miss Matilda said that there are a bunch of seashells down there.”  
Shay groaned, wanting to sink further into bed, but unable to refuse with the way his little girl looked at him with her pleading face.  
“Dress and breakfast first, and then we’ll go down to the beach.”  
The little red head beamed at him, and scampered off of him to head back to her room.  
Shay brushed his dark locks away from his face, but he smiled. He had been busy taking out Hope’s gangs for weeks now. A day at the beach would be a nice change of pace for him. And he rarely got to spend time with his little girl.  
His wife shifted in her sleep, but didn’t wake. Shay leaned over to kiss her on her brow before getting up to get dressed.  
The sun was beginning to rise, but it was starting to get cooler this time of year. He would have to make sure Catherine bundled up well. He put his heavy coat on, and grabbed his hidden blade, his sword, and his pistols just in case. After leaving a note for his wife, he made his way over to the little bedroom Catherine was staying in to find her struggling to put her dress on. Shay smiled.  
“Hold still, Little one,” he said as he kneeled down to help straighten her dress and tie the lacings. He contemplated whether to pull her hair back and tie it, but he had watched his wife enough to know that the unruly red locks were untamable, and Catherine seemed impatient to get going. He decided to leave it, and followed his daughter down to the kitchens to see the servants already setting things up for the day. The cook gave father and daughter a bowl of oatmeal with a tinge of molasses mixed in it.  
Catherine had her bowl cleaned in no time, and Shay had barely even finished his own before she grabbed his wrist and started tugging him towards the backdoor leading to the gardens.   
Shay managed to swipe Catherine’s cloak and a couple of apples for a snack later on before thanking the servants for breakfast. Then after making Catherine stand still long enough to put her cloak on, they made their way out into the gardens, and down the path that would take them to the beach.  
The sea breeze was so refreshing and it made Shay feel like he was right at home. He kept an eye on Catherine as she skipped down to the sand. She looked at it curiously, reaching her hand down to feel its texture, oblivious to it getting her dress dirty.  
The waves were crashing on the beach before receding back into the ocean. Catherine watched them, intrigued and slowly approached the water with Shay sticking close behind her. Catherine was small and if the waves got hold of her, her skirts would become an anchor, and she would have no chance if she were swept away.  
Catherine jumped as a big wave crashed onto the beach, hitting Shay’s legs, the man grabbing onto her shoulders to balance her. She looked up at him and giggled.  
After that, Shay began to relax. He sat down on the sand and watched as his daughter explored the beach, digging through sand for shells, and kept far enough from the waves to where he didn’t have to worry about her being swept away. He took out one of the apples he brought, and using his one of his knives began to cut slices from it for Catherine when his daughter came up to him, her fists full of shells she must have found.  
“Do you think Mum will like them?”  
“She’ll love them,” Shay assured her, looking through the many different shells. A good find.  
“Papa look!” Catherine pointed to a bunch of seagulls gathered down the beach. She took off, and Shay was immediately on his feet following her.  
“Catherine, wait!”  
For a toddler in damp skirts she moved pretty fast.   
The gulls flew as she neared them, and Shay picked her up, and saw what they had been flocking about for.  
“Sea turtles?”  
Sure enough, there were a couple of baby sea turtles slowly but surely making their way towards the ocean. They were cute little things.  
Catherine squirmed in Shay’s arms. “Can I touch them?”  
Shay shook his head, remembering his own father when they had once found something like this when he was a lad. “No Catherine, they need to go to the ocean where their mother is. She’s probably worried sick for them.”  
“Oh,” Catherine realized.  
It was nearing luncheon. They gathered their things, and Shay carried Catherine back to the Templar headquarters. With his daughter safely wrapped in his arms, Shay Cormac felt happy and content for the first time in a long time.

<<000{{*}}000>>

Paris, 1796  
Inside, Arno was struggling to stay calm as he walked through the hidden tunnels of Notre Dame towards the Assassin headquarters. The tiny and dainty hand inside his big and calloused one helped to keep him from falling apart.  
It had been two years.  
Two years since that horrid year of ‘94 when he had been thrown out of the Assassin Order, killed Germain, and lost the love of his life Elise in a single breath, and discovered the news that had changed his life forever.  
After losing Elise, he had gone into a drunken stupor as he mourned her. It had taken doing a favor for Marquis de Sade which ended in him helping an orphan named Leon find and secure an Apple of Eden from Bonaparte to get him out of his funk and destructive path, and reach out to the people who had known and loved Elise as much as he did. Once he had come to their home, he had learned the news that had shakened his world.  
He was a father!  
Elise had given birth to a daughter in the year 1788 in late August.  
It had shocked Arno as if he had been hit by that Sword of Eden Germain had been using all over again. He’d done the math to know that his daughter had been conceived on Elise’s Christmas break before she had returned to the Academy. Elise had never told him. She hadn’t even written about it in her journals. There was no mention of a child, no baby, not even any mention of pregnancy sickness or suspicion. It had ripped open the pain he had felt at Elise’s death and added the salt of betrayal to the still fresh wound.  
Oh Elise.  
Why didn’t she ever tell him while she was still alive?  
Before they went to face Germain?  
When she found him drunk in Versailles?  
While they were hunting Germain?  
When he escaped the Bastille and found her shut up in her family estate?  
When she returned from schooling?  
Even sent a letter the moment she discovered that she was carrying their child?  
Oh Elise, why?  
Arno wanted to grab her and shake her, and ask her these things but he could not.  
Then the fallen Assassin Ruddock had attempted to take his daughter and Elise’s handmaiden Helene for the bounty the Carroll’s had placed on them for Elise killing their daughter. Luckily, Arno and Elise’s former teacher and protector Weatherall managed to kill the traitor, and neither child nor the young lady were harmed.  
Arno learned that his daughter’s name was Juliette Marie Dorian. Elise had named her after their mothers, and had given her Arno’s family name.  
She was beautiful.  
She had his dark hair with an auburn tint to it and his charming smile. From Elise, she had her blue eyes and that slim nose. A beautiful mixture of Arno and Elise.  
After Ruddock was killed and the dust settled, Helene and Jacques had offered Arno a place in their home so he could be near his daughter. Arno had accepted, knowing that despite just learning about her existence, he didn’t want to suddenly uproot his daughter from the only home she had ever known. The girl had recently lost her mother, and had just met her father for the first time in her life. That was enough to deal with.  
Weatherall had given Arno one last letter from Elise, this one explaining Juliette’s existence, and why she had kept her secret from him.  
“My dearest Arno,  
Of all the letters I have written, this one is the hardest to write. I pray that I have found the courage to tell you in person about Juliette, but if not… please forgive me for telling you about her and my reasons for keeping her a secret by letter. I have no doubt that you remember that Christmas night in ‘87 before I returned to school when we acted on our feelings for the first time. If you have already read my journals then you probably realize that I was carrying our child when I went to England for my mission to spy on Jennifer Scott. In fact, it was Mademoiselle Scott herself who told me that I was pregnant. She had been a concubine in her youth, and therefore knew the signs. I had begun to mistrust the Carrolls and feared them discovering my condition and using it to their advantage which is why I made no mention of my pregnancy in my journals.  
When I didn’t come home for summer break, my father tracked me down and that’s when he discovered my secret. It took some creative talking from Mr. Weatherall and myself to prevent him from going after you and castrating you. I already loved this child growing inside of me. Getting rid of it was out of the question. I wanted to tell you this in person, but then my father warned me about your ties to the Assassins. I hadn’t even told you about the Templars and my father wanted to turn you into one of us. I was destined to be the next Grandmaster of France, and I was dealing with enough criticism due to my sex and youth. To have an illegitimate child my father feared that no one would ever take me seriously. I loved you, but I didn’t want you to marry me out of obligation.   
Then I gave to our Juliette and fell in love again. She was so perfect in my eyes that I knew I would fight Templars and Assassins together to keep her safe. She was kept out of the public eye with only my father, Mr. Weatherall, Madame Levene, Helene, and Jacques knowing about her existence.  
Then my father died and everything fell apart. I knew that my father’s usurper wouldn’t stop until everybody in my family was dead, including Juliette. I worked even harder to protect Juliette and keep her a secret from the ones who called themselves my allies since my father could no longer do it. Then I learned that you had joined the Assassins. I can’t tell you the conflict I felt in whether to tell you about Juliette or not. She reminds me so much of you, and you remind me of her. She’s inherited your charm, your innocence, and your compassion, and it makes me love her all the more for it.  
Every time we met I would open my mouth, believing that I should tell you… and then shut it. I can’t tell you the guilt and shame I felt every time I kept quiet. The thought of you dying without any knowledge of her made me sick. There’s nothing that can excuse me for keeping her from you even when I blamed you for not warning my father in time. Perhaps that’s why I could never lead the Templars here in France because I was too much of a coward to even tell the father of my child that he had a daughter.  
Which brings me to this: whatever anger, betrayal, and even hatred you must feel for me now, I beg of you, do not take it out on Juliette. She’s a wonderful girl, more than I have deserved, and she deserves to at least have one parent who will raise her with love and protect her. I have told her stories about you and she knows that you are a good man. When she asks about me, tell her I love her and that my last thoughts were of her and you. Tell her our story. Tell her that unity between our two orders is possible because our story is proof that it is possible.   
That brings me to my last request: when you finish reading this letter, burn it. The Templars know nothing about her and I know that they will never accept her due to her father’s identity. Tell no one, but those you absolutely trust who her mother really is. They can speculate all they want, but you and she will know the truth and that’s all that matters. I love you, Arno, and I know that Juliette will love you no matter what.  
Jet’aime,  
Elise”  
In those two years, Arno had raised Juliette and had fallen in love with her. She was wonderfully patient with him, and had a sense of mischief which was expected given who her parents were at that age. He had also been inducted back into the Assassins. Members like Sophia Trenet had been reluctant to welcome him back due to him living with a former Templar, despite Weatherall now being in retirement. However, Beylier and Quemar, and friends that Arno had made over the years argued that Arno deserved to come back due to killing Germain and preventing Bonarparte from getting his hands on an Apple of Eden. Arno could deny it, but he missed the Assassins, the people who had given him purpose after the death of Monsieur de la Serre.  
His purpose for bringing Juliette here today was because Helene was on bedrest with her and Jacques’ first child, Weatherall was unable to keep up with the lively child, and Arno didn’t have enough time to ask Madame Margot if she could watch Juliette. Besides, Weatherall had argued that this would be a good experience for her to learn both sides of her heritage. One day, Juliette would decide what path she would follow whether that was an Assassin, Templar, or a normal life. Whatever she decided, Arno would stand by her and support her decision.  
They entered the hall where the Assassins were meeting and several eyes were on them. He felt Juliette move closer to him, and he squeezed her hand in reassurance.  
“Mesdemoiselles, Messieurs,” his voice rang loud and clear to all. “May I present my daughter, Juliette Marie Dorian,” he proudly introduced.  
His daughter took a shy step towards them, and with her father’s charm and her mother’s poise, curtsied. "Mesdemoiselles, Messieurs."  
Arno knew that from everybody’s expressions, his daughter had just charmed the entire Assassin brotherhood, even Sophia Trenet.

<<000{{*}}000>>

Whitechapel, 1869  
Jacob narrowed his eyes fiercely at his opponent. There were few challenges Jacob had faced that he struggled to overcome. This challenge was so reckless even for him. His men had wisely stayed out of it, only keeping an eye to make sure their boss didn’t lose a limb to his opponent.  
“It’s a bad idea.”  
“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Jacob Frye,” his wife, Elena Reed-Frye told him, her tone telling him not to push her on this.  
They were in their favorite pub with their friends and allies. The only people missing were Evie Frye and her husband Henry Green who were picking up the twins’ former teacher George Westhouse from the train station. The Rooks had all sat down at a distance from the arguing couple, Inspector Abberline watched in worry, Clara curious to see who would win, and Charles Dickens with amusement.  
Elena Reed was a formidable woman. Half-Italian and half-English, she had grown up the daughter of Templar Grandmaster Crawford Starrick and his wife Serafina Venier, an undercover Assassin who had been sent by the Italian Brotherhood to undermine Starrick until she had been discovered and was poisoned when Elena was only eleven years old. She then ran away and lived on the streets of London for the next three years of her life, learning the ins and outs of the city, how to steal, who to trust, and how to survive until she was discovered by the Brotherhood when she helped save “The Ghost”, Ethan Frye, and George Westhouse from the Templars. She became Henry Green’s apprentice, and took to the Assassins like a fish to water, becoming the Ghost’s blade when he needed it. She helped him gather allies and spy on the Templars as he trained her up until the Frye twins came to London to take down Starrick’s control.   
Evie and Elena had gotten along splendidly due to their shared desire in freeing London from Templar control. Jacob and Elena however… let’s say that cats and dogs got along better at their first meeting. She thought him to be a reckless and arrogant child. He thought her to be a know-it-all ice princess. They had pushed their animosity just enough to focus on the liberation of London. Within time, their animosity cooled. She saw that his recklessness stemmed from his desire to end the injustice he saw the Templars inflict upon the people. He saw that she was not the ice princess he thought her to be, and that she cared for the people of London from street urchins to the unfortunate women in the streets to those working in the factories for what meager pay they could earn to feed their families. They became friends even though they argued on what tactics to eliminate the Templars.  
Then Jacob discovered Elena’s history when he allied with Roth and it drove a wedge between them. Jacob still flinched whenever he thought about that time. How he believed her to be a Templar spy despite Green’s reassurance that she wasn’t. Elena had fought back just as hard, telling him he was taking the word of a cutthroat who eyed him like he was a piece of meat, and warned him that his alliance with Roth would end badly. On that end, she was right.   
After he killed Roth and they were preparing to infiltrate Buckingham, he apologized to her and told her that she was right. She then told him about her childhood in the Starrick home, how she always felt frightened by her father’s presence, how she watched him drain the life out of her mother, the only person who cared about her before he poisoned her, and the lonely years she had spent struggling to survive on the streets before Henry had found her. In return, Jacob told her about what had happened between him and Roth. The damage they inflicted, the poor children they had nearly killed, the screams and stench of smoke when Jacob had escaped that hellhole called Lambeth, and even his conflicted feelings when he assassinated Roth. Elena had listened to it all without judgement and comforted him the best she could. It was then Jacob realized that he was in love with her. After they killed Starrick and were knighted by the Queen, he discovered that she returned his feelings.   
Now, here they were a year later married. They still had the occasional spat in how to run things, and he realized that she was deadlier than any pistol or blade he’d ever handled… and he loved her all the more for it.   
However, Jacob had never been so happy to see his twin sister than he was now when she came into the pub with Henry and George.  
“Evie! Thank God!” he had exclaimed as the newcomers sat down at their table. He leaned forward and pointed at Elena. “Will you tell Elena that we’re not naming your nephew Marco?”  
Elena was eight months pregnant with their first child. She should be on bedrest, not in a pub with a bunch of men and women notorious for getting rowdy after drinking too many. She had threatened to pull her blade out the next time somebody suggested.  
Elena wrapped an arm around her protruding abdomen. “Why not? It was my uncle’s name.”  
“Marco Frye? Children will make fun of him,” Jacob told her.  
Elena narrowed her eyes. “My uncle was a well-respected member of the Italian Brotherhood.”  
“Which is why nobody made fun of him,” Jacob pointed out.  
Elena sighed. “Fine. How about Serafina after my mother?”  
Jacob leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know how that will work for a boy.”  
“It might not be a boy,” Elena reminded him.  
“I think Serafina is a wonderful name,” Evie said as she watched their argument in amusement. “It means ‘fiery one’ in Hebrew.”  
Jacob groaned, hoping it wasn’t a girl, or he would have his hands full.  
George chuckled. “I remember Ethan and Cecily acting the same way when they were expecting you two.”  
The Frye twins and their spouses perked up and listened to George with interest as he told them all the names their parents had thought about, their reasons and arguments over them with Cecily threatening to castrate Ethan once or twice. It gave Jacob and Elena a few more ideas.  
At the end of the night, the Rooks all toasted to the names Jacob and Elena finally decided on: Emmett Jacob Frye and Serafina Evelyn Frye.

<<000{{*}}000>>

Amritsar, 1888  
Evie felt the humidity of the air mix with the sweat on her skin. Her hair was soaked and her clothes clung to her skin as she sparred with her eldest daughter in their training courtyard of the Mir home with escrima sticks.  
Her daughter Maria would be leaving in a few days to join her cousin Emmett and many other Assassin Apprentices on a European tour, learning the different cultures and Assassin methods with Master Assassin Thomas Wyatt leading the tour. Maria was excited and Evie was excited for her. However, she couldn’t help but also worry for her. Her daughter had just turned eighteen, and she had only been on a few missions with Evie. Of course, Evie knew she was being ridiculous. She’d heard that it was normal for Assassin parents to worry when their children went out on their own for the first time. Her father had probably felt the same way when she and her brother had begun on their own missions. Besides, Evie herself had only been a couple years older than her daughter when she and her twin went out on their own to free London. Maria would be with her cousin and several apprentices who would watch her back, and a couple of Master Assassins who would make sure she stayed out of trouble.  
Maria tried to do a drop kick, but Evie skillfully moved out of the way, returning a kick of her own into the young woman’s stomach. She stumbled back, trying to catch her breath.  
“Harder,” Evie instructed. “You’re stronger than this Maria. Again.”  
She was getting faster, Evie realized.   
Her daughter had inherited her teardrop face and fierceness in battle, but she had also inherited her father’s dark hair, his chocolate brown eyes, and a lighter tone of his bronze skin that glowed from the sun shining on her. She reminded Evie of a fierce warrior princess from the stories Henry used to tell their daughters when he was still alive.  
She caught Maria’s arm and pulled it back painfully, causing the young woman to drop her stick. She retaliated by swinging her other arm at her mother to which she released her in order to avoid her blow. They continued the fight until Evie managed to disarm her other arm and put her in a chokehold.  
“Yield!”  
“Never!” her daughter gasped.   
All of a sudden, Evie felt both of her legs kicked out and she lost her balance, falling to the ground with Maria slipping from her grasp. She rolled onto her back with a painful groan, and looked up to glare at the culprit. Or culprits.  
Her eight-year-old twins, Cecily “Sissi” and Serafina “Fina” Mir-Green were both grinning so mischievously that could only come from the Frye side of their heritage. Unlike their elder sister who obviously took more from their father’s side, the twin girls took more from their mother’s with skin only slightly more tan than their mother’s fair complexion with freckles grazing atop their noses and cheekbones. Their eyes bordered on being hazel like Evie’s brother and father. They even acted every bit as mischievous and wild as Evie and Jacob Frye had been at that age. It gave Evie a whole new respect towards her dear grandmama and father.  
“Run!” Sissi screamed.  
The three girls took off and Evie was on her feet and chasing after them. They went out of the courtyard and into the house, going down hallways and startling servants. They made it to the kitchen where Evie was forced to dodge pieces of fruit thrown at her until Prisha, their cook chased them out. The chase continued out into the gardens where they went through mazes of different plants Evie’s mother-in-law grew. She could faintly hear her children’s giggles around her, and had to use her Eagle Vision to find them, but every time she reached out for them, they evaded her grasp. She couldn’t find Maria though. Where did she go?  
She heard movement behind her and turned just in time to dodge a swing at her, but when she moved backwards she tripped on something, a body. One of the twins had tripped her, Evie realized as she fell on her back. Maria pinned her down, sitting on her chest, and pinning her arms with her knees, she brought a sharp rock to Evie’s throat.  
“Yield.”  
She was drenched in sweat and fruit juices, and if Evie was being honest, she felt sore and tired. She nodded her head.  
Maria released her and helped her mother back on her feet. Evie saw her twins standing right beside their sister.  
She raised an eyebrow. “Did you three plan this?”  
The twins exchanged a nervous glance, and Maria shrugged. “Maybe.”  
Pride filled Evie. “That’s my girls.”  
The three sisters grinned. She put her hands on the twins’ shoulders and the Mir-Green women started heading back towards the house.  
“Now, you two are going to go back to your lessons with Grandfather,” Evie told Sissi and Fina.  
The two girls groaned, acting exactly like their uncle in that moment.  
Evie turned to Maria. “And you and I are going to take a bath and start packing for your trip.”  
The young lady smiled with excitement.  
Her daughter would be able to handle herself on the tour. Of that Evie was now reassured.

<<000{{*}}000>>

Siwa, 49 BCE  
Aya groaned as she felt something land in her and Bayek’s bed, waking her from a peaceful slumber.  
“Your son is awake,” she mumbled to Bayek.  
Bayek yawned as he too was rudely awakened.“Before sunrise, he’s your son,” he mumbled back.  
“Papa!” Khemu whined. “You said you were going to teach me how to use a bow and arrow today.” He got off of them and lifted the tarp over their window. “Look!”  
Aya lifted herself up and blearily looked to see the sun just peeking over the hills and mountains.   
Bayek’s groan told Aya he saw it as well. “Alright, I’m up. I’m up.”  
When Bayek left the bed, Aya knew that she wasn’t going to get anymore sleep, so she figured she might as well get an early start on her studies.  
As Bayek prepared for his and Khemu’s day, Aya pulled out the papyrus papers and scrolls her parents had sent to her from Alexandria. As she began to read, her son approached her.   
“What are you reading?” he asked.  
“The goddess, Taweret,” Aya answered. “In legends she brought the flooding of the Nile when the Eye of Ra became angry with her father and chased her out of Egypt. When she returned, she assumed the appearance of the Hippopotamus and became the goddess of childbearing.”  
Khemu sat at Aya’s feet, listening to her story in awe.  
“She brings children to families?” he asked.  
Aya smiled. “In a way.” There was no way she was going to explain to Khemu how children came into existence.  
A thoughtful look came upon Khemu’s face. “If I ask, do you think Rabiah would give me an amulet of Taweret?”  
“Whatever for?” Aya mused.  
“To see if Taweret can give me a baby sister,” Khemu explained.  
Aya froze as did Bayek who was filling his quiver with arrows. Aya didn’t know how to explain it to Khemu. After Khemu had been born, they had been told it would be a long time before Aya could conceive again. Now, Aya was in her thirty-fifth year seven years after Khemu’s birth and no more children.  
“It’s just that you’re always so lonely when Papa and I go out on hunts. If Taweret gives me a sister then you won’t be alone whenever we go out,” Khemu explained.  
Aya felt touched by the thought. She had to admit, at times when she was home by herself, she felt lonely after doing the chores. Her studies helped. She had accepted the fact that she couldn’t possibly bear children now. She had planned on returning to Alexandria to continue her studies when Khemu came of age, but she knew that she would miss her time in Siwa raising her family with Bayek.  
Bayek kneeled beside them, placing on Khemu’s shoulder. “You are a good son. Tell you what: if your mother agrees to it, why not have her join us and then on our way back, we’ll stop by Rabiah’s and see if she has an amulet of Taweret?” he asked Khemu while also directing the question to Aya as well.  
“Really? Can you Mama? Please?” Khemu begged.  
She had chores to work on after her studies, but it would be nice to join her husband and son on a hunt. Maybe for a little bit. It was also difficult to refuse when they stared at her with their big dark eyes pleadingly. “Alright, just for a few hours.”  
“Yah!” Khemu cheered as Bayek chuckled.  
He pulled out Aya’s bow he had helped her make years ago as she put her scrolls away and took the bow.  
By the time Aya returned home, it was nearing sunset and she was helping her family carry a large hyena with Khemu examining an amulet of Taweret as they walked. An exhausted but happy smile was on Aya’s face.  
It would be the time she would spend such a happy time with her family.

<<000{{*}}000>>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy early Thanksgiving to all of you who are reading this. I hope for all of you to stay safe and healthy with your families. I think we all deserved some happy family moments in Assassin’s Creed during this time. Thank you all and again Happy Thanksgiving.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays Everybody! This month has been hectic with shopping and work.   
> I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. A little bit of insight on Desmond’s mother Elizabeth’s background.

Chapter 11

The terrified screams of a child, especially your own flesh and blood struck like a thunderbolt through your chest. The fear of harm coming to that young and innocent life could either stun you with horror or cause you to move without realizing it as you desperately tried to save them. Bayek had felt that feeling for as long as he could remember. Khemu, Shadya, and all of his descendants who had died as children, too young to even participate in this endless war.  
Desmond’s screams had shot the whole Miles clan into action, chasing after the demon who had grabbed the young boy and was dragging him through the woods surrounding the Farm. they went deeper and deeper into the shadows, the trees thick to where they could no longer see the moon or the stars in the night sky.  
Desmond’s pleas were like whips on their backs.   
This... thing was fast. It had to be immortal and from the deepest depths on the Other Side. How would they be able to free Desmond and stop it?  
Their lucky break came when Desmond somehow managed to grab and hold on to a tree root, stopping the demon from dragging him further and allowing the Miles Clan to catch up. The boy looked up and his eyes connected with Bayek’s. In his golden eyes Bayek could see the pure terror in them as he struggled to hang on. It was the same terror Bayek had seen in his own son right before he was killed and it urged Bayek to run even faster if that was possible. He barely made out the whoosh of flying arrows before they were embedded in the creature’s hand.  
The demon howled in pain, and Bayek recognized Amunet and Connor’s arrows. However, the monster stubbornly held on to his prey, yanking Desmond so hard the boy lost his grip on his lifeline and hit the ground hard on his head. Bayek inwardly winced island anger filled him as he finally reached Desmond, and grabbed the upper half of the boy’s body, and tried to pull him out of the creature’s grasp.  
The other ancestors reached them, and Shay, Edward, and Jacob pulled out their guns and with precision aim, fired on the dark demon.  
The creature’s painful howls sent shivers down everyone, but it loosened its hold on Desmond enough for Bayek to finally pull him out of its grasp. The boy was losing consciousness so Bayek hurriedly picked him up and held him protectively as the creature began to recover.  
By now the entire Miles clan had surrounded the monster. Using their Eagle Vision they were now able to get a better look at the dark demon. It stood up taller than any of them maybe ten to fifteen feet with black robes covering it, his teeth just noticeable from the shadows of his hood, obscuring the rest of its features. Its clawed hands were the only parts of it exposed. They were long, sharp, and covered in all different kinds of scars.   
“What the fuck is this thing?!” Edward spoke out loud for all of them.  
The creature let out an ear piercing shriek before it swung its arms at them.  
They ducked and rolled from it, but Bayek with Desmond in his arms was cornered into the tree. The creature made to approach him, but Jacob jumped on it from behind, wrapping his arms around its neck, or what he figured to be its neck. But the creature grabbed him and threw him off. The British Assassin yelled as he was flung several yards through shrubs and a tree before landing on the ground.  
Evie fired her pistol at it, and it turned to her in a fury.  
Before it could attack her next, Altair threw one of his knives at it, hitting on the right side of what would have been its collarbone.  
Haythem from behind then swiped at where he judged its back knees to be. “Come on you pilge-sucking bastard!” The normally composed Colonial Templar swore an oath that he remembered his father swearing when he was a boy.  
It angered the monster even more, charging at the Temple in fury. Connor and Ezio came at it on opposite sides, but the creature grabbed them by their throats before throwing Connor at his father and then the Italian at Evie and Altair.   
The creature then grunted in pain from its back shoulder and turned to see that Edward Kenway had thrown a rope dart at it with Shay helping him to hold the line and pull at it. Connor, seeing what his grandfather was up to, quickly got up and threw his own rope dart at its chest and pulled. His father got up and helped him pull with Jacob who rejoined the fight. Evie shot her grapple at its right leg and pulled with Ezio and Altair to help her. For the moment it seemed the monster would be brought to heel between the eight Assassins and Templars, but then with a furious roar, it rose up and pulled the ropes and line with such power they were all piled at its feet before they could cry out.  
The monster grabbed Haytham by the back of his neck and picked him up to where they were face to face. The Templar Grandmaster could smell the acid foul breath that reminded him of the Styx, see its teeth curl into a snarl, and for the first time since his death, he felt fear for himself.  
An arrow pierced the left side of the monster’s head coming out from the right side. A shot like that would have killed a mortal creature, but the monster only dropped Haytham, turned around, and growled furiously at Amunet who stood between him and her husband holding their descendant, bow in hand and another arrow pointing at it.  
“We’re just making it angry,” Altair gasped as they all struggled to get back on their feet, and away from the creature’s reach.  
“How are we supposed to hurt it?” Jacob angrily asked.  
Arno, who had been out of the fight so far had been creeping up one of the trees and carefully climbing its branches until he was perched over the fight and waited for the right moment to strike. When the creature was finally in position, Arno jumped off the branch, hidden blade engaged as if he were going to assassinate the monster. However, as if the creature knew Arno’s plan all along, it caught the Frenchman by the throat and he dangled in its grasp. Arno tried to pry its claws from his throat and kick at it, ubt nothing he did affected it.  
A glimmer of light shone from Arno’s belt and reached the dark shadows of the creature’s hood. It happened in a moment and before Arno could get a glimpse of its real features the monster dropped him with a painful shriek as if he had burned it. Bayek, who had been guarding Desmond as his family fought the creature, instantly realized what had happened. On his belt hung a small lantern that Arno kept in memory of the adventure he had shared with Leon after the death of Elise. Even in death, the lantern still held a light inside it, and it seemed to hurt the creature when he saw it.  
“Arno your lantern!” Bayek shouted.  
Arno scrambled to his feet and took the old lantern off of his belt, and held it out towards the monster. The light shone bright and the creature backed away from them, its growls sounding more painful as the light shined on its dark robes.  
“Amunet, use your arrows!”  
Seeing what her husband had in mind, the Egyptian woman hurried over to Arno. Dipping the tip of her arrow until it was alight, she pulled it back and let go.   
The arrow hit the creature’s robes and set them on fire. The monster’s shrieks pierced the night for everyone to hear its pain. It ran deeper into the forest until its lit figure faded at a great distance. Even when it faded from sight, the Miles clan felt no relief.  
“Everybody back to the Farm. We need to check Desmond’s injuries and keep him where there’s light. It seems the creature hates it,” Bayek told them, his eyes on the last place he had seen the monster before it disappeared.  
Everybody agreed and although they hated to admit it, they were all shaken to what had just happened. They began their trek back to the Farm, using Arno’s lantern to light their way and kept their senses alert in case the creature came back or something else.

<<000{{*}}000>>

Crunch!  
Gavin swore and the Farm’s doctor, Dr. Heckler winced in sympathy as she set his nose back into place. ”Sorry.”  
It had been years since Gavin and Bill had sparred together that the former had almost forgotten how hard his old friend could hit. He had been on his way to talk to William when the man had rushed out of his study and pushed Gavin as if he were chasing a target with a dozen Templars on his tail. The wild and desperate look in his eyes had shaken Gavin to the core.  
He had known William for as long as he could remember. Their fathers had been good friends, and the two of them would spend hours playing in the forests outside the Farm, pretending that they were fighting Templars and hunting for Pieces of Eden. Bill had been the more adventurous and reckless one at that age, always pulling the biggest stunts and scaring their parents good. They promised that they would be friends forever and fight Templars side by side. Brothers until the end.  
Then Bill’s father died. Gavin watched as his best friend changed from the lively and reckless boy to a solemn one before he left the Farm in the care of his guardian Desmond Laden. It was years before they saw each other again. By then they were fully trained Assassins with blood on their hands, no longer the innocent and naive boys they had been. They were grown men hardened by the years of training and fighting, but the bond they had shared as children was still there. They fought and killed actual Templars instead of wooden dummies and hunted for the truth instead of unique ricks they used as Pieces of Eden. To see his best friend the way he was now hurt Gavin.  
He had chased after Bill with Liz right behind him, worried that he might hurt himself or somebody else. His screams for Desmond were gut wrenching, but Gavin had to ensure his friend wouldn’t hurt himself by running into the forest at night in his state. He had jumped Bill and tried to get the gun off of him. The man had fought viciously, ramming his elbow into Gavin’s nose, breaking it. Despite the pain, Gavin held on to William, and a couple other Assassins came over to help get the gun off of him. The gun went off, but thankfully had been pointing towards the woods and had hit one of the trees harmlessly. With the state he was in, Gavin didn’t want to further risk Bill hurting himself or anyone and had yelled for the sedatives.   
He’d made the novice mistake in forgetting that Bill carried hidden blades on both of his arms. He’d barely avoided getting sliced when Bill triggered them and he jumped off of him. Gavin liked to think that he was decent with a blade, but if he was decent, Bill was a master. How many people had Gavin watched Bill kill with his blades? There was a reason he was allowed to carry two. Bill had told him and everyone present that he had heard Desmond and would have continued his charge into the forest if Liz hadn’t managed to sneak up on him and inject the sedative into him. Gavin could tell it broke Liz’s heart to do such a thing to Bill, but the betrayed and devastated look on his face when he realized what they had done had made Gavin feel just as guilty. They had no choice though.  
Dr. Henrick finished cleaning the blood and bandaged his nose. He thanked her and got off the couch in the Miles’ living room while she gathered her stuff up.  
“Keep an eye on the two upstairs,” the doctor said, her eyes glancing upstairs to where they had taken William after sedating him, leaving Liz to watch over him. “Everyone on the Farm has been talking and they’re worried about the Miles losing their minds.”  
“Can you blame them? Their son has disappeared without a trace with an ancient artifact that no one truly knows what it’s capable of, and could be who knows where in this forsaken universe!” Gavin didn’t mean to snap at the doctor, but if he was going to be honest he was worried about his friends and their son too.  
When they had discovered the Orb, the Mentor himself had contacted Gavin and had ordered him to take the Orb and all their research on it to where the Templars could not find it. The Farm Bill managed was well- hidden and kept a few of their best researchers in the Brotherhood. The glowing episodes Gavin had seen had only happened when Desmond was around, and now it and the boy were both missing, and everybody was losing their minds.  
Gavin thanked the doctor again and took the painkillers she had given him before heading upstairs to check on the Miles. He passed Desmond’s room, noticing the light was on and flipped the switch off. He continued his way to where he knew William and Elizabeth slept. There was a single lamp on, but he could make out all the books Liz’s family had collected over the years on the bookshelf, the 18th century sword William had said was a family heirloom hanging above the headboard, and on the nightstand where Bill would sleep was an adjoined picture frame with the photo of Bill and Liz’s wedding day and a photo of Desmond’s birthday. The rest of the house was filled with weapons and plans to help the Brotherhood, but this room consisted of memories that Gavin felt like an intruder but he stayed.  
They had strapped Bill to the bed like he was an asylum inmate, making sure to confiscate any weapons on him. He looked so tired, more tired than a man who hadn’t slept for a couple of days.   
In a chair next to the bed was Elizabeth who looked like she had dozed off. She had taken her hair out of its messy braid, letting the dark hair tumble over her shoulders as she slouched in her chair. Although she was younger than both William and Gavin, she looked as though she had aged a decade.  
Gavin could still remember the day he and Bill had met Elizabeth Bransky. He had never seen his friend so blown away and he still laughed about it to this day. Liz’s family had been scarred from WWII and had spent all her life hunting Templars with parents and sister on the move. Her father had died years before they had all met, but her mother, Gavin remembered, could make a grown man wet himself with a single look. Bill had his work cut out trying to impress the intimidating woman. Keren, the little sister was a sweet girl more suited to studies and research, but was determined to prove herself just as capable an Assassin as her mother and sister.  
Gavin remembered when Keren had been sent on a mission to help protect Indira Gandhi, Prime Minister of India. The mission had ended in the young woman’s death along with the prime minister. Keren’s death had been a blow that her family never truly recovered. Elizabeth had been devastated, and her mother… they had watched the proud and formidable woman shatter at the news of her younger daughter’s death. They discovered that the deaths had been ordered by Dr. Moira Rikkin, wife of high ranking Abstergo employee at the time and Templar, Alan Rikkin. The Templars had been experimenting on their new Animus project. Keren came from a long line of Assassins and Moira Rikkin had ordered the hit in order to get a hold of her body and analyze her DNA. The discovery had lit both her mother and sister with a raging fire, and before William or anybody could stop them, the two women declared war on the Rikkins, and stormed their London stronghold with several other Assassins. They killed over a dozen high ranking Templars, Elizabeth herself slitting Moira Rikkin’s throat, and Nora stole back her daughter’s body and all of Abstergo’s research on her.   
It was a bittersweet victory.  
The council had severely reprimanded the Bransky women and all of those who had helped them in their attack. From what Gavin had heard they were all taken off the field for such recklessness and bringing attention to themselves. The Templars had retaliated for Moira Rikkin and the other deaths for the next several years. Assassins ending up dead, captured, or gone into hiding. Gavin heard that Nora had been cornered while visiting relations in England before she slit her own throat rather than be captured by Abstergo. Her death had sent Liz into a depression at the same time she had found out that she was pregnant with Desmond. It was decided between her and Bill that they would raise their child on the Farm where Bill and Gavin had grown up and devote their time to training novices and assist in research. Gavin could see that it helped Liz with her depression, but it also made Bill anxious, missing the action and being on the field. Now, with Desmond missing, Gavin worried about his friends.  
Liz’s head rolled and she jerked herself awake. She rubbed her tired eyes and noticed Gavin. “How long have you been standing there?”  
Gavin shrugged. “About a minute or two. Didn’t want to wake you up. You need the rest.”  
Elizabeth shook her head. “I know I need it. My body needs it. But every time I think about it I feel guilty and afraid. Every second I waste Desmond could be in some kind of danger.” She looked at William’s unconscious form, and they both knew that they were thinking about the incident.  
“Don’t make yourself sick, Liz,” Gavin gently told her. “I’m worried that’s what Bill did. He pushed himself until he thought he could hear Desmond, and almost killed someone. You won’t find Desmond if you push yourselves too hard.”  
Elizabeth had a thoughtful look on her face like she was contemplating something. “What if Will actually heard something?”  
“What?” Gavin hoped he misheard her.  
“What if Will actually heard something?” Liz repeated.  
“Come on, Liz.”  
“I’m serious. What if Will actually heard Desmond outside?”  
Gavin shook his head. “Everyone’s been searching those woods since last night. Are you saying that Bill somehow heard Desmond when he could be miles and miles from the Farm?”  
“Not exactly.” Liz bit her bottom lip. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but… earlier this afternoon while I was going through Desmond’s things I felt… it almost felt like a touch on my hand and then a whisper.”  
Gavin looked at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads. “Come on Liz, seriously. Are you telling me that Desmond is suddenly a ghost and he’s messing with you and Bill?”  
“I’m not saying that. He’s not dead! I know he isn’t.”  
“How?”  
“I just know.”  
Gavin rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine beginning. “Please, please Liz keep it together. Bad enough Bill here just lost it. I can’t let you lose it too.”  
“Well maybe I have lost it!” Liz yelled at him. “Maybe I have lost my fucking mind, but before you go off judging just listen to what I have to say for one damn minute before you judge me crazy like everybody else in this forsaken Farm.”  
Gavin shut his mouth, wisely allowing her to calm down and speak her thoughts.  
“That orb you brought, what if it could transport someone into a different world like a different dimension?”  
“What?” Gavin was confused. “You mean a different world like in comic books?”  
“Maybe, but like… what if when you die your spirit stays in this world, but you can neither be seen nor heard.”  
“So in other words: ghosts?” Gavin asked, skeptical. “How would the Isu be able to conduct something like that? It sounds supernatural. Something they wouldn’t think logical.”  
Liz rolled her eyes. “Come on, gavin. Everyone born into the Brotherhood has grown up listening to stories about mind controlling apples, healing shrouds, and weapons that could bring the world to its knees. Is it unreasonable that there are things in this universe that not even the Isu could scientifically explain?”  
Gavin sighed, his migraine worsening. “Suppose you’re right. Desmond grabs the Orb of Eden and is now a poltergeist that only you and Bill can hear. So?”  
Liz shook her head. “I know it sounds crazy and far-fetched. It probably is, but I can assure you Gavin, I have seen Bill go without sleep for five days and the craziest thing he’s done is sprinkle Desmond’s baby powder on his hands before training and rub my skin lotion in his hair while taking a shower, not runoff into the woods like a lunatic,” she paused and looked past Gavin and into the hallway. “I thought I turned the light in Desmond’s room off.”  
Gavin looked back and could see a light coming from the boy’s room. They went over and looked in. the light was on, but there was nobody there. Everything was left the way they had found it when they realized that Desmond was gone. Gavin and Liz shared a frown before the latter turned the switch off and closed the door.  
“I could have sworn I turned it off right after we strapped Bill down.”  
“I noticed it on when I came to check on you both. I thought you wanted to check something and forgot to turn it off, so I did,” Gavin said, puzzled. He did turn the light switch off.  
“I know I turned it off,” Liz insisted. “I thought for a wild second that Desmond had returned before I looked in, and saw nobody and turned it off.”  
The light came back on through the crack under the door. The two Assassins looked at each other.  
Silently, Gavin triggered his hidden blade, wrapping his hand around the doorknob, and then quickly opened the door and jumped in to attack whoever was in there. Only there was nobody there.  
Gavin turned to Liz, puzzled. She turned to the lightswitch by the door, hesitated for a moment before switching it off.  
A few seconds, ten seconds later the switch flipped back on, light filling the room.  
Gavin hurriedly jumped out of the room, pushing Liz out, and slamming the door shut. His heart was racing and his migraine was forgotten.  
“All that shit you said about ghosts and unexplained science shit,” he gulped. “I’m a believer now.”  
Now he was losing his mind.

<<000{{*}}000>>

“You could have waited till they were gone,” Evie scolded her brother.  
“Come on Evie, it’s the first fun I’ve had in years. Let me have this,” Jacob said from his post at the lightswitch. “Besides I’m not taking the chance that thing is outside Desmond’s window waiting to come in the moment the light’s out.”  
“Told you the Bogeyman was real,” Arno said in a tone that would have been smug if they all weren’t still shaken from the attack.  
Connor crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the Victorian Assassin. “Your great-great-granddaughter is recovering from depression, her husband is strapped to their bed, and is worried about her son, and you think messing with her mind is fun?”  
They were all packed in Desmond’s bedroom. The boy in question laid in Bayek’s lap on his bed, still unconscious. They couldn’t move his blanket and even if they did it would have just fazed through him, so instead Shay had shed his heavy overcoat that had kept him warm when he sailed the arctic. It was a cute sight, seeing Desmond practically swamped by the oversized coat, but they were all worried that he hadn’t woken up yet. They had all experienced concussions and head traumas when they were living, but with Desmond still unconscious they had no way to be certain, and there was the fact that none of his previous injuries were visible. The scrapes and bruises he’d gotten were no longer there even in places that were still solid. It was worrisome. How could they help Desmond if they couldn’t see or feel his injuries?  
Jacob glared at the Native American. He liked Connor. He really did, but he would not tolerate anybody questioning his love and care towards his family. He cared for Evie, he cared for the mother they never got to meet, he cared for his grandmama, Greenie, his wife, his sons, his nieces, his grandchildren, he even cared about his arse of a father in his own way, and cared for all of his descendants and the distant relations in his present family. Even Haytham and Shay, posh gits the two of them though. After seeing the asylums in his own time and raising Jack, Jacob knew that mental health was no joke. The last thing he wanted was to drive his poor descendant Elizabeth insane.   
“Of course not, but I seriously don’t want to risk another attack in the house. I remember the last time there was a fight around our descendants. We nearly gave Nora a stroke,” Jacob said, glaring at Ezio and Haytham. “Besides, it’s better if we don’t wholly depend on Arno’s lantern.”  
“Too bad Desmond no longer sleeps with a nightlight,” Shay commented, motioning to the corner of the room where a handmade star nightlight use to be.  
“He was six years old when they took it out. It was time to grow up,” Haytham said.  
“Oh please. You wouldn’t stop making me light a candle before bedtime until you turned nine,” Edward reminded him to which Haytham looked embarrassed while Connor grinned at the news.  
“Khemu couldn’t fall asleep unless one of us was there,” Bayek softly spoke, silencing everyone. “He once told me it was because he was afraid that the monsters would take us and eat him.”  
Everyone was silent, watching as Desmond’s chest rose up and down with every breath like he was really sleeping.  
“This used to be my favorite part when I became a father,” Ezio whispered. “Seeing the children sleeping safe and peacefully in bed.”  
“Right after they demand another story,” Altair added in.  
“Or a drink before bed,” Arno continued.  
“They grow up so fast,” Jacob finished.  
They were silent, reminiscing on memories of their own children.  
“Why was that creature after him?” Connor asked.  
“I don’t know,” Bayek answered. “When we first came to the Other Side there were monstrous spirits and demons who terrorized both the living and the dead. The Angels had to capture them and when they did, they were thrown into the deepest bowels of the Other Side.”  
“Lucifer’s pets,” Evie realized. “When we went down to interrogate Herod, Lucifer said that Cain had taken some of his pets.”  
“But why would Cain set one of them after loose and after Desmond?” Edward asked.  
“Could have been a distraction,” Shay suggested. “Maybe he was hoping that we would be more focused in saving Desmond than finding him.”  
“Or maybe he wanted Desmond for something else,” Amunet spoke.  
That didn’t bode well.  
Arno checked his pocket watch. It was nearing eleven here.  
It caused a frown on Amunet’s face. “I don’t like the idea of us splitting up while that monster is still out there. It took all of us just to protect Desmond from that thing. Cut in half who’s to say it would be enough to protect Desmond here while the rest of us continue the search.”  
“Then what do you propose?” Haytham demanded. “Drag an unconscious and possibly concussed boy all over the Other Side?”  
“We’re running out of time,” Evie reminded him.  
“If I may,” Bayek spoke up, garnering their attention. “We still have a few hours before de Sade returns. Let us wait to see if Desmond wakes before we make a decision.”  
As if he heard him, Desmond moaned.

<<000{{*}}000>>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think? I actually had to look up how you fight a bogeyman, and all I could gather was that it hates light (which is why parents install a nightlight for their kids). As for the background on William, Elizabeth, and Gavin, I wanted there to be a reason why they are the way they are and why Desmond was raised the way he was. As for Elizabeth being the one to assassinate Alan Rikkin’s wife that actually popped in and I didn’t want to let go of it. After a lifetime of killing and losing the people she loves it would make sense for her to want to settle down and focus on raising her child where he could be safe. As for William I get the sense that he had just as rough of an upbringing as well.  
> Gavin and Elizabeth seem to be getting an idea as to what’s happened to Desmond. I couldn’t resist a giggle at the lightswitch part. The place I work at has its own set of ghosts. One night while I was working, we heard something and saw the rocking chair rocking; it worried us for a second until we realized that it was only the cat who jumped on it just so he could get in the office. It was a good laugh.  
> Please review and let me know what you guys think. And Happy Holidays!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, it’s been a rough start to the new year for me. First I fell and fractured my pinky toe and have been forced to wear a boot everywhere, then a coworker of mine was fired and I was forced to work extra shifts, and just recently my great-grandfather has passed away. He was a WWII veteran, and one of my heroes which is why I would like to dedicate this chapter to him and all of the people who lived, fought, died, and survived World War II.  
> Thank you all for your patience and dedication.

Chapter 12

He was chasing that bird again down that same path that suddenly stopped and ended with a dark abyss down below. He knew the bird wanted him to follow it, but how? He had no idea what laid down below in the shadows. He could die.  
“Have faith,” a voice whispered to him.  
It sounded so soothing and familiar. He wanted to trust it, but he was afraid. Afraid of the unknown.  
“Have faith,” the voice repeated.  
Have faith? Have faith in what?  
An aching pain in his head had Desmond waking from his dream. Or dreams.  
He felt so disoriented. He felt as if he’s been hopping from one dream into another, into a world different from the last, with people he recognized, and people he didn’t yet felt that he should. In the dreams Desmond had found himself in places he’d only imagined from his mother’s books and stories, only it was more detailed than even his wildest imagination could conduct.  
The smell of the ocean’s salt water, the cigar smoke in an English pub, the feel of humidity dampening his skin and clothes in Amritsar, and the scorching sun in Jerusalem, and hear the crashing of waves. These were things he’d never experienced while living on the Farm, and yet he could swear he experienced them. It’d felt so real. Not just the physical aspects but the emotional ones as well. He could feel the pure love and pride in them that it brought him to tears.   
The first time he opened his eyes he immediately closed them when the first thing he saw was the lit lightbulb in his room. He groaned and buried his head deeper in his pillow. Please may his father not do a drill in the middle of the night after all the crazy dreams Desmond had having tonight, he silently begged.  
Wait a minute! Did his pillow just move? Desmond’s eyes opened and he shot up.  
And immediately regretted it.  
Pain erupted in his head and he immediately clutched it before falling back on his bed.  
Everything came back to Desmond: the fight with his father, his attempt at running away, the Orb of Eden, meeting his ancestors who hadn’t moved on, and all the crazy escapades, including the latest one of the giant cloaked monster. That had been the scariest Desmond had ever felt in his life. But what had happened? He lifted his hand covering his eyes and was startled to see all the faces of his ancestors gathered around him, concern etched in each and every face.  
“Gah!” he exclaimed. “Do you guys know how creepy that is?!”  
Realizing what he meant, his ancestors all jumped away from him, abashed. Except Bayek who’s lap Desmond realized had been his pillow.  
“How do you feel?” Connor asked.  
“Like a hammer hit me,” Desmond groaned as he removed himself from Bayek and landed his head onto his own pillow.  
“Dizzy? Queasy?” Ezio asked.  
“No, but I’d like it if you guys turned out the light,” Desmond answered, burying his head deeper into his pillow.  
“No can do, Desmond. That light is the only sure thing we’ve got to keep the Bogeyman away from you,” Jacob told him.  
Wait, what? “Bogeyman?” Desmond turned his head to look at the London Assassin. Jacob looked at the boy as if he’d lost his head.  
“You know: tall creature covered in dark robes, long sharp claws, acid breath, and the scariest howls you’ve ever heard?”  
Desmond felt as if he’d been shakened and the whole experience came back to him. “Wait, so what happened? How did I get here?” he asked, sitting up and his eyes adjusting to the light.   
His ancestors explained how they had chased after him and the bogeyman into the forest, and when they caught up with them, the fight they had in order to keep Desmond out of its clutches. Although they were good at hiding it, Desmond could see that the encounter had shaken all of them. These were centuries old killers both Assassin and Templar. They weren’t supposed to be scared of anything. If the bogeyman could shake all of them, including Amunet, Desmond realized how very lucky he was to no longer be in its clutches.  
He shuddered. “You saved me?”  
His ancestors all nodded.   
“Thank you.” For the first time since he had come to the Other Side, Desmond fully appreciated their care and concern. Several of his ancestors smiled at him while others like Connor looked as though they would have blushed if they could.  
“Well…” Haytham stuttered, obviously embarrassed. It had been centuries since the last time he had received any kind of gratitude. “Yes, well, you are our descendant after all no matter what order you’re raised in.”  
“Be careful, Father. You’re beginning to get soft on us,” Connor teased.  
Haytham tossed him a glare while everyone else chuckled, and Desmond smiled.  
Ezio sat on the other side of Desmond and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re famiglia, piccolo. We look after one another, even if we want to kill each other sometimes.”  
Desmond laughed, but he felt safe and comforted. It was all so strange and yet felt so natural.   
He looked up at his bedroom light and asked how it was on. His ancestors continued telling him how it had been the light from Arno’s lantern that had driven the bogeyman away. When they told him about Amunet’s arrow setting it aflame, he asked, “So it’s dead?”  
He saw Bayek shake his head. “Dead? No, you cannot kill demons, only drive them away. The Angels would have heard about the attack by now and should be in the process of recapturing it.”  
“So we’re stuck here until they catch it? How long is that going to take? What about de Sade?” Desmond asked. They were running out of time, and Desmond had no intention of ending up stuck here on the Other Side.  
Bayek shrugged. “Who knows. I’ve heard it takes days to years to even centuries to capture certain demons.”  
“We know the bogeyman hates light,” Amunet continued. “If we travel using Arno’s lantern it should wade it off until we reach the Sinful Bliss. The torches around the city you’ve seen should keep it out of our business.”  
“Wait, we’re all going?” Desmond asked, surprised.  
From the way he had understood the plan, he was going to be left behind with some ancestors while the rest went on to visit de Sade. He could deny it, but Desmond was curious to see more of the Other Side. After all, this was where he would go when he died, and knowing his parents, as soon as he got back they would never let him leave the Farm ever. He might as well enjoy his chance of freedom.  
“Unfortunately,” Arno answered, obviously not happy with the situation. “It would be unwise for us to split up while that thing is still out there. Which means you have to come with us.”  
“Just… uh…” Ezio sounded embarrassed. “Don’t stare at anything.”  
“And if you hear strange sounds don’t ask what they are,” Edward quickly added, equally as embarrassed.  
“Ooooookay,” Desmond promised, a little confused. He remembered them telling him de Sade’s brothel was like a hangout place. What was wrong with that?  
They still had a few hours before they could meet de Sade, and Desmond was advised to try and get some more rest, but he was unable to with his bedroom light still on. Instead his mind wandered to all that had happened in these last two days. Had it just been last night when he had gotten into that fight with his father? It felt like it had been years. He thought about what he’d seen in his father’s study a few hours ago. Did his dad truly miss him or did he just miss having a soldier to train? Desmond thought about the training session he had with Jacob and Edward. It reminded him of sparring sessions he’d have with his dad when he was younger before he turned into a demanding asshole. They were still as serious or at least serious to a ten-year-old. His father would encourage and push him, always telling him that though he wasn’t strong enough yet to take down a fully grown man he could be just as fast and hit his enemy in the right spots to take them down. It used to be fun for Desmond, figuring out what his father’s weak spots were and never holding back. He remembered the pride in his father’s voice when Desmond had gotten himself out of a difficult headlock, or what he’d thought was a difficult headlock. He’d pulled a move his mother had told him about, tripping his father with his legs and biting his side until he let go. It was a dishonorable move, but his father had told him come life or death, you did what you had to survive.  
What happened between them?  
Desmond thought about it and realized the changes began to happen when Daniel Cross came to the Farm. He’d never seen anyone openly challenge his father in his ideals, philosophies, and traditions. It had given Desmond questions as well. Daniel Cross spoke about the places he had been to and the adventures he had. He reminded Desmond of the heroes in his mother’s books, and the young boy was dazzled to learn more about the world outside the Farm and his mother’s books. He was sad when Daniel left them, and it made him wonder why his dad wasn’t more like Daniel. He’d even asked his dad that and that’s when it all started.  
Desmond’s hand went to the spot on his face where he’d struck him. It no longer hurt physically, but the mental hurt was still there. He’d never forget, maybe not ever forgive his father even if he did try to apologize. He thought about Edward and Jacob, and what they had told him of their own parents while they were sparring.  
Edward had disappointed his parents with his drinking, his refusal to continue the family tradition of running their sheep farm, and making enemies that burned down that farm. He’d left them and his wife to go sailing with pirates, and when he came his father was dead and his mother disowned him. His parents were never able to complete their unfinished business and move on until Edward’s death when they finally all reconciled properly. Desmond had been able to see the pain in Edward’s eyes as he told him that.  
Jacob had been more reluctant to talk about his father. He had left him and Evie shortly after their birth and the death of their mother in the care of their grandmother until they were six years old when he returned and began to raise them on his own. Growing up, Jacob had felt that nothing he did ever pleased his father compared to Evie. He wasn’t sneaky enough or smart enough, too headstrong and too reckless. Jacob never realized that all their issues were because they were the same until he became a father himself years after his father’s passing. Unlike Edward, by the time Jacob had died and came to the Other Side, most of his family had already moved on to the Afterlife.   
Edward and Jacob had both told Desmond that though his father was a man with flaws, was tough on him, and hard to understand, he was a good man and he loves him. Desmond wasn’t sure. He remembered before he had lost consciousness with the bogeyman, hearing his father’s voice. Had it been real? He wanted to ask his ancestors, but was afraid to ask. He did however pluck up the courage to ask about his dreams.  
“Who are Mailk, Darim, Sef, Flavia, Io:nhiote, Catherine, Jennifer, Rose, Juliette, Elena, Henry, Maria, Cecily, Serafina, and Khemu?”  
His question took each and every one of his ancestors by surprise. They all looked at him agape and speechless as he spoke of names not said out loud for a long time.  
“Where-” Shay swallowed before speaking again. “Where did you hear those names?”  
So Desmond told them about the dreams he had before he had woken up. From the people to the places to the events, down to the detail each and every one of them. He watched their faces morph from surprise to painful to sadness to anger and then finally confusion and concern. Nobody could come up with a plausible explanation as to how Desmond had seen their dearest and precious memories of their loved ones. There was no logic and it made another thing to worry about. Eventually they all settled down and began to tell Desmond stories of his family legacy as they waited for the time to seek de Sade out to approach.

<<000{{*}}000>>

Paris, August 15, 1944  
There was a tension in the air as Samuel Miles and his Assassin brothers ran across the Parisian rooftops at night. German patrols were everywhere ever since word got out on the Battle of Normandy.   
Sam and his American brothers had barely survived the bloody battle, but had pushed on, thinning out the Germans in their way for the Allies. Sam had commandeered a jeep to carry them to Paris in order to help their trek. Their mission was too important to waste time, and they had to sneak themselves behind enemy lines and into Paris. Now, in the two months the American Assassins had gotten in contact with their French brothers and sisters to discover that the Germans were retreating, but many still remained. Marcel Flouret had informed them that the German commander of France, General Dietrich von Choltitz had captured thousands of members of the French Resistance. Among those captured was an important Assassin and a highly valued prisoner for the Templars.  
Sam slowed his pace and held his fist up, signaling his men to slow down as he kneeled on the edge of the building across from Nazi Gestapo. His French brothers had told Sam horror stories about that place. People went in, but were never seen again.  
Using his Eagle Vision, Sam tried to find a way in, but there was too much red to slip past without being caught. Sam inwardly cursed.   
Dammit.  
The French Assassins had hammered into Sam’s skull how important it was for him to rescue their comrade, Jeanne Eder. He had been given a summary of her background. Her mother had been Lyra Quinn, an American Assassin who had come during the Great War to assist and had stayed to help rebuild Europe. She married a former Austrian soldier Georg Eder who was studying to become a scientist and the two of them had a daughter Jeanne while living in Paris. They had been living in a simple apartment until 1928 when Templars stormed their home, killed Lyra, and taken Dr. Eder, their six-year-old narrowly hiding and avoiding capture by a secret compartment barely big enough to hide her next to the fireplace. The French Assassins found her later that day after hiding for hours and had taken her into their care. Although she had American and Austrian blood, Jeanne had a French upbringing and was a French citizen. When the Germans invaded, Jeanne had helped the Resistance in any way she could from spying to sabotaging to assassinating SS officers along with her mentor Jean Moulin. Unfortunately the Assassins had been forced to lay low due to their lowering numbers until Jeanne had discovered her mentor’s torturous death and had set off to avenge him, but was captured. For months the Assassins had been unable to confirm that she was still in Paris or that she was even alive until the Normandy invasion. They received word that the Germans were preparing to send out their prisoners to prison camps in Germany, except Jeanne. The Templars had been forcing Dr. Eder into studying the Apple of Eden Hitler had been using to control the German people and make weapons for them. Eder had been uncooperative and had made two suicide attempts if the reports were to be believed. The Templars were hoping that the capture of his daughter would force Eder into being more cooperative in their plans.  
That’s why this mission was so important. Sam hoped that by rescuing Jeanne Eder they could follow the Templar trail and secure the Apple. Without it Hitler’s control would crumble and they could end this war.  
Two gold figurines entered Sam’s vision. One was a feminine figure with hands tied behind her back and a sack over her head being led into a black car. The other figurine was an SS officer Klaus Barbie, otherwise known as the “Butcher of Lyon” Sam recognized from photos and a high ranking Templar.  
Shit. It seems like they were leaving Paris tonight.   
Sam looked to his friend, Nathan Banks and nodded. His friend sounded a birdlike whistle, their signal to the French Assassins to enact their backup plan. The Templars would have to go down a series of streets in order to avoid the Resistance and get out of Paris. The Assassins had anticipated their route and were not planning on letting the Templars escape with their fellow Assassin. Sam’s men would follow the Templars and provide support to the others.  
Along with the car, the Templars’ escort consisted of two trucks filled with Nazi soldiers and four motorcyclists. Sam had only Nathan and two other men. The French Brotherhood had been able to spare just ten of their Assassins. Their numbers were three to one in the Templars’ favor, but Sam remembered stories his father use to tell him and his siblings of Assassins who had faced bigger odds and triumphed. If they timed and planned this carefully they could kill the Templars and rescue their fellow Assassin without any casualties on their end.  
Barbie’s escort headed off and Sam’s group struggled to keep up on the rooftops, but the French had seen to it they’re American friends were familiar with the ins and outs of Paris to know their way well enough. The Assassins had made sure to block off roads all so that the Templars would have no choice but to fall into their trap.  
They caught up to the fleeing Templars just in time to hear the loud pop and screeching of tires being popped by the nails left out on the street and the sound of gunfire. Sam hoped that the civilians in this neighborhood stayed inside and away from their windows.  
The French Assassins fired machine guns from hidden alleyways and other hiding spots in the street. In order to give them a helping hand, Sam jumped from the rooftop to the balcony below him before jumping the remaining thirty feet down. He had aimed his landing on a Nazi soldier that had left the rear truck, and met his target, plunging his blade into his neck. A perfect assassination. His comrades quickly noticed Sam and his friends join in the fight and turned to them. Sam quickly stabbed the soldier closest to him by a few feet and used his body to shield himself as he tugged his pistol out and fired, killing three more while his friends took out the rest from the truck.  
Sam turned to look at the other Assassins to find they had just as quickly taken out the rest of the soldiers. The car containing Barbie and the captured Assassin was open and Barbie was running out into the night.  
Sam made to chase after him when a harsh voice called after him. “Leave the scum!”  
He turned in surprise to see a blonde headed woman leaning on the car. Half of her face was bloody and swollen from the black eye, broken nose, and busted lip. Her wrists were bloody from her bonds that she had freed herself from with the knife in her hands, but there was a fierce determination about her despite the obvious abuse she had been through.  
“In the car Barbie was boasting that they’re shipping three thousand resistance fighters out to prison camps tonight. We need to get to the railroad station now before it’s too late!” she told him.  
“We left one of the cars out on the next street. Take it!” one of the French Assassins who’s name Sam couldn’t remember urged.  
“Go Sam. We’ll help clear the bodies and go after Barbie!” Nathan told Sam.  
There was no time to argue.   
Sam chased after the French born half-American and half-Austrian woman down to the next street to one of the cars and because of her injuries, Sam was forced to drive. However, before they took off in the dim street lights, Sam was able to get a proper look at Jeanne Eder. The parts of her face not bruised and swollen was flawless pale skin, her blonde hair looked as if it could be curly and soft. There wasn’t enough light to see the color of her good eye, but Sam was willing to bet that it was a stormy color. Finally, he noticed around her neck shining in the dim light was a medallion with the symbol of the Tree of Life.   
As they hurried down the streets of Paris towards the railroad, neither Sam nor Jeanne realized how much this night would affect their lives forever.

<<000{{*}}000>>

Dresden, January 20, 1945  
Bloody Hell! Bloody Hell! Shit! Shit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fucking Hell!  
Those words were running through Nora Crowder’s mind as she ran through the forests outside of Dresden Germany with Nazi troops on her tail. It was freezing cold and the snow had to be about two feet deep at least, making it difficult to run in.  
Gunfire exploded in trees next to her, narrowly missing her and her companion.  
How the hell did it end up like this?  
After the liberation of Paris, Nora and her company had fought their way through the Battle of the Bulge and into Germany. They’d been traveling for weeks on foot or by jeep, hiding in abandoned barns, almost catching hyperthermia from the bitter cold. For their mission the Council had advised Nora to take her company to a safehouse in Dresden where they would meet up with another group of Assassins who would assist them. But when Nora’s company made it to the warehouse they didn’t find their Assassin allies but Templars dressed as the SS. Three of her companions had been killed in the firefight, leaving Nora no choice but to flee into the forest with her remaining companion, a lad barely even nineteen.  
There was no where they could hide in the white snow, no place to disappear.  
As Nora and the lad made a turn, the lad slipped and fell down a steep hill.  
“Crane!”  
A bullet hit a tree just above her head, and Nora had no choice but to duck and therefore lost her balance and tumbled down that same hill. She tasted snow and dirt as she tumbled through old weeds and branches. Her face stung as it hit a patch of briars before landing hard on her left side by a log.   
Pain shot through her. Her left arm felt like she had snapped it out of place. Her hidden blade arm. Fuck, Henry and Jake were not going to let her heat the end of- Tears stung her eyes as she remembered that neither one of her brothers was around anymore to scold her for her recklessness.  
Nevertheless, she pushed through the pain and looked desperately for her remaining companion.  
“Crane! Crane! Andy!”   
He couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t be. Nora couldn’t bear it if she lost another one on her watch. Anderson “Andy” Crane had come from America with his older brothers to help in the war. When he’d heard about Nora’s mission, Andy had volunteered to join her, and she had promised his family that she would look after him and he would make it back to them alive. It wasn’t just because of her promise, Nora knew that if Andy was dead, that meant she was on her own and this really would be a suicide mission like her parents and the council had warned her.  
“Nora,” a voice whispered from the other side of the log.  
Relief filled Nora when the dark head of Andy Crane popped out and began to help drag her over the log. Bullets began to hit just as Nora cleared it and they ducked.  
“How much ammo do you have left?” Nora asked as she tugged her handgun out of its holster, her left arm lying uselessly by her side.  
Crane took out the machine gun he had swiped off a German soldier. “Not enough to take them all out.”  
Nora had three grenades in her satchel, but was unsure if she’d be able to throw them far enough. “What about the radio?”  
That led to a whole slew of cursing when it was discovered smashed from the fall. Low ammo, lame arm, and no communication. They were in it tight.  
Nora’s thoughts went back to her brothers. Henry who was shot down in ‘41. Jake who had been executed in Berlin by Templars for his part in Operation Valkyrie. Both men who had taught her how to stand up and be her own person, and her vow to never let them down.  
She shared a look with Crane and they nodded. If this was to be their end, then they would take as many as these Templar bastards with them. She prayed that her parents would forgive her for leaving them.   
She turned and fired her gun.  
Crane blasted away with his machine gun, taking out several Templar soldiers.  
Their guns empty, Nora hurried to refill her’s with her one good arm when they heard a different set of guns firing. She turned to look but couldn’t see the third party that had joined the fight. She switched to her Eagle Vision, and saw faint glimmers of green coming from the top of the hill and firing at the red images.  
“Stay down!” Nora warned Crane. After what seemed like hours but was probably minutes, the gunfire stopped. Nora hesitantly looked over their hiding place and saw maybe around less than a dozen men searching the bodies.  
“Remember: weapons only!” a deep voice ordered.  
Nora looked to see two men around the same age, probably late twenties, and brothers judging from the resemblance, watch as their men searched their fallen enemy. The older one looked bigger and gruffer compared to his younger brother, but the younger made Nora think of Henry who was good at analyzing his surroundings before charging into a fight, and knew that this brother was most likely the leader of this pack. Her vision showed the brothers to be gold. Were they her allies?  
One of the men spotted her and Crane and pointed his gun at them. Out of instinct, Nora pulled out her own gun and pointed it at him. She was a Crowder and a Frye, an Assassin. Ally or not, she got sick and tired of people pointing their guns at her.  
“Woah, woah, woah, easy, easy!” Crane tried to diffuse the tension.   
The younger brother barked at the men in Polish and he lowered his weapon.  
Nora was hesitant to lower her’s as the younger brother slowly approached her down the snow covered hill. Now that he was closer Nora could see his features more clearly. He was surprisingly handsome with skin that looked like it could tan easily in the sun, tufts of dark brown hair peeking from his winter cap, strong facial features, and thin lips. However, the feature that stood out to Nora was his eyes. Golden eyes that reminded her of an eagle, sharp and focused. They seemed like they could pierce into Nora’s soul and learn all her secrets. But there was also pain in those eyes. A pain Nora recognized as similar to her own, that told he too had lost people he loved in this war, and that’s when she noticed the gold star of David around his neck peeking from under his jacket.  
The man raised an eyebrow at the gun in Nora’s hand. “You Allies have a funny way in saying thank you.”  
Embarrassment hit her as he spoke to her in Polish accented English. She put her gun back in its holster. “Thank you, but you can’t be too careful in these troubling times can you?”  
Gold eyes danced. “Indeed. Are you Nora Crowder?”  
“Are you my contact?” Nora shot back.  
The familiar snick of a hidden blade answered her as she was finally able to see it hidden in his winter coat.  
“Gideon Bransky. We were forced to leave our hometown of Warsaw right before the Russians moved in so we could help you in your mission. Whatever that is.”  
These men were all Polish Jews. The Assassins had discovered that the Templars had set out to purge Europe of the Jews and many other kinds of people. For what reason, the Assassins didn’t know, but set out to help the survivors and refugees. These men had lost everything and suffered under the Templars hiding behind the Nazi powers. They should know what Nora was leading them into.  
“My mission is to finish what my brother and many Assassins before him had started: to kill Adolf Hitler and this wretched war.”

<<000{{*}}000>>

Desmond woke to someone shaking him awake.  
“Come on, Desmond, it’s time to go,” Altair whispered.  
Desmond must have fallen asleep in the middle of his ancestors’ stories. He shook the cobwebs of sleepiness off, and followed his ancestors out of his room and back to the Other Side, Arno’s lantern leading them through the darkness.

<<000{{*}}000>>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of my great-grandfather John H. Anderson, November 8, 1923-January 14, 2021. I wrote the WWII flashbacks in memory of him and his generation who lived in that time. My grandfather had thirteen siblings and when the war broke out, the military asked his father to choose which of his sons would serve. He was unable to do so, so my grandfather and his brothers chose for him. He and two brothers enlisted, but my grandfather was the only one who went overseas, leaving his wife and their infant daughter. He drove a jeep and was there at the Battle of Normandy. He faced many life and death situations and learned how to survive explosions but laying on the ground and keeping an arm under your stomach so the air could fling you away instead of crushing you, and had to run from German tanks. He even met General Patton himself once and admired the man greatly. He earned a bronze star for a mission when he was setting up communication lines his group ran into a German patrol. The men guarding him fired at them and they survived. He buried his star with his son who died in a tractor accident when he was nine and his brother got him another a few years ago during a family reunion. My Grandpa was a man who made his fair share of mistakes, but he was a good man who loved his family and served his country bravely. R.I.P. Grandpa. I love you and I’ll miss you. 
> 
> In August 15, 1944 General Dietrich von Choltitz ordered three thousand members of the Resistance to be sent out in trains, 170 per cattle car to concentration camps in Germany. Only 27 of them returned. Klaus Barbie, otherwise known as the “Butcher of Lyon” was the head of one of the Gestapos where he tortured adult and child prisoners. He arrested several high-ranking officials of the French Resistance, his most prominent being Jean Moulin. In April 1944, he ordered 44 Jewish children from an orphanage to be sent to Auschwitz. It is estimated that he was responsible for the deaths of 14,000 people. He wasn’t convicted until 1983 when he was no longer under the protection of the Bolivian government and was extradited to France for crimes against humanity. He died from cancer in prison, 1991.  
> Operation Valkyrie, in case no one has watched “Valkyrie” was an emergency plan German officers had conducted to assassinate Hitler and free the German soldiers under his control. The plan was after killing Hitler, officers General Friedrich Olbricht, Major General Henning von Tresckow, and Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg would take control of the German cities, disarm the SS, and arrest the Nazi leadership. Unfortunately, Hitler survived the attempt and most of the leaders were executed.  
> I apologize for any inaccuracies. I tried to stay as close as possible. This year has been sucky for me already: losing my grandfather, falling and fracturing my foot, and a coworker of mine whom I liked was fired. Thank you all so much for your encouragement and hope you all stay safe this year.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are the next chapter. Happy belated Valentines everyone! It’s been a little rough trying to write due to all the snow. I was snowed in at work and had to spend the night there a couple of times, and I still feel worn out. Can’t till winter is over and spring is here.  
> In the meantime, I hope you all will enjoy this chapter. Desmond here kind of learns the difference between love and lust much to his ancestors chagrin.

Chapter 13

Captain Edward James Kenway had led an interesting existence. He sailed the seven seas, seen things no living man had seen for thousands of years, and stumbled upon an ancient war without even meaning to. He’s seen and experienced things that would drive lesser men mad. However, never even in his wildest drunken dreams could he have seen himself right now.  
In the middle of their storytelling, young Desmond had fallen asleep much to the relief of everyone. The names he had asked about brought pain everyone had thought themselves numb to for centuries. It was an unspoken rule everyone, Assassin and Templars both had agreed to never bring up topics of loved ones they had known in life and moved on to the Afterlife. For each of them, they had someone ripped from them in life and then lost them again when they moved on from the Other Side. After centuries of being separated from loved ones, the remaining members of the Miles Clan had no choice but to push the pain and memories of them to the back of their minds, otherwise they all would have been driven mad with grief, and haunted parts of the world like many other lost spirits long ago. However, this was Desmond, their living descendant. He deserved to know the names of the people he came from no matter the pain they all felt in revisiting old memories.  
Desmond was probably still tired which most likely led to him falling asleep in the middle of a tale. Although, even in sleep it seemed that something was bothering the living boy if his twitching was any indication. It was a relief when Arno announced that it was time to leave and Altair woke Desmond up.  
Now on their way to the Sinful Bliss, Desmond had told them about his latest dreams to which they all realized had been about the times both sets of his grandparents had first met during WWII. Somehow in the midst of explaining the dreams it had led to the talk of relationships.  
“So wait, how long did it take Grandpa Sam to tell Grandma Jeanne he liked her?” Desmond asked in disbelief to what he had just heard.  
“Two years, and about another to actually propose to her,” Ezio explained, maybe a little embarrassed that it took his descendant so long. Not that he was one to talk.  
Edward scoffed. “That’s nothing.” He nodded towards the ancestors from Elizabeth Miles’ side of the family. “Took seven years of dancing around before your Grandfather Gideon and Grandmother Nora admitted to the obvious and practically eloped after the next mission.”  
“But why wait so long? Most of the kids on the Farm have girlfriends or boyfriends,” Desmond was confused about the complications of romance.  
Ezio sighed, melancholy. ”Oh to be young and alive, and to feel love’s keen sting.”  
“The older you grow, the more you’ll understand, Desmond,” Evie wisely told him.  
Desmond, however, was still confused and refused to let it go. “What’s so complicated? If you like someone why not just tell them? It’s not that hard.”  
Everybody winced. How innocent and naive their descendant was.  
“Telling someone you love them is a lot tougher than you expect. For example,” Edward explained.  
“She might be your enemy.”   
Altair threw a death glare at him.  
“You might think she’s out of your league.”   
Ezio glared at him  
“She might think you’re a complete prick.”   
“Father!”  
“She might think you’re completely oblivious to her feelings.”  
“Grandfather!”  
“Or you might act like a blunderbuss around her.”  
“Hey!” Shay shouted.  
“You might be overbearing to the point it annoys her.”  
“Watch it, Kenway!” Arno yelled from his leading the group.  
“You might have insulted her.”  
“Oi!” Jacob protested.  
“Or you might have acted like a complete fool while working around him.”  
“I did not!” Evie snapped.  
Desmond still looked confused, but he connected to what his pirate ancestor had been saying. “That actually happened to all you guys?”  
That had led to an awkward but amusing storytelling as to how each of his ancestors had met the love of their life. It quickly lead to “You seriously did that?”, “She was that pretty?”, to “Wow.”  
Edward had loved more than one woman in his life. He couldn’t be sure which was The Love of his life, but he had loved both his first wife Caroline and his second wife Tessa, and never regretted his marriages to them even after all the pain he’d put them through intentionally or not. Which was why he kept silent about his own love life.   
Desmond laughed at some of his ancestors’ first impressions of their spouses. It was difficult to believe that his hardass ancestors were so in love that no book writing could do justice in describing it.  
“So how do I know she’s the one?” he couldn’t help but ask.  
Bayek smiled at him. “When the time comes you’ll know, Desmond.”  
“I can remember the very moment your father realized he was in love with your mother,” Edward said. “The stubborn prick took his good old time pushing her away and saying he wanted nothing to do with her.”  
“Lucky for him, the women on our side of the family have always been stubborn and strong-willed as well,” Jacob added in with a grin while his sister and great-grandfather shook their heads in amusement.  
Edward continued. “It took him believing that she was missing and lost in the woods surrounding the Farm for him to stop denying it, and when he gave up, he finally begged her to come out, that he was sorry, and that he was in love with her.”  
“His speech was actually romantic,” Shay commented.  
“Si,” Ezio agreed. “Worthy of those dramatic soap operas people watch these days.”  
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! My dad, MY DAD, did that?!” Desmond exclaimed, unable to believe his cold and hard father would ever do something like that.  
Edward nodded. “Oh yes, if your mother hadn’t gotten lost in that forest, your father would have continued his sad and lonely existence and died alone a long time ago.”  
“Elizabeth didn’t get lost,” Altair corrected.  
“He’s right, Grandfather. If you remember correctly, William and Elizabeth had been drinking when they got into that fight, and Elizabeth left to go cool off in the woods.”  
“Oh you’re right. Point being though Desmond, if your mother hadn’t decided to disappear, your father would have never come to his senses,” Edward finished, a bit proudly.  
Desmond couldn’t believe it. His parents never discussed their history. He didn’t know how they met, what they thought of that first impression, how they fell in love, or what had made them decide to get married. He knew his parents loved each other. He was observant. When they thought he wasn’t paying attention, they would share a fond look with one another. His father would reach out, brush a strand of loose dark hair, and tuck it behind his mother’s ear. His mother would smile, bright but gentle, and she would reach out and take his hand and hold it for a long time.  
Was that love?  
If so, what did his mother think of it?  
What did his father think?  
Desmond wished to know.  
Arno announced that they made it to the Sinful Bliss. The outside was filled with lanterns giving off just enough light to where Arno didn’t have to use his lantern anymore. The building itself was a mansion in 18th century style. Not that Desmond could tell. His eyes were focused on the golden statues on it of people in poses Desmond never would have imagined… or dressed either.  
They were eye-opening enough for the thirteen-year-old boy when he saw a couple in the bushes. The woman was in some kind 16th century garb and was pressed against the wall while a man dressed in that same century’s armor held her up, and ran his mouth up and down her throat to her exposed chest.   
A hand suddenly clasped itself around Desmond’s eyes, obscuring his vision, and he heard Shay yell at the couple. “Get your arses in a room before an Angel sees you!”  
“There has never been an Angel here,” Altair, whom Desmond realized was the one covering his mutter.  
What Desmond did not see was the frightened faces of the couple when they saw the Miles Clan all glaring at them with disgust while they covered a young boy’s vision from their half-dressed state. The woman immediately fixed her dress and ran inside with the man right behind her.   
Desmond pushed Altair’s hand away in annoyance. “I thought you guys said it wasn’t a bad place.”  
“What are we going to do?” Jacob asked. “We can’t cover his eyes with our hands the entire time.”  
It took a minute, and then Ezio untied his red sash around his waist and began to wrap it around Desmond’s eyes. It took several loops just to make sure there was no chance Desmond could see past the red fabric before Ezio finished tying it off.  
“Dovrebbe bastare. Now Desmond, no matter what, you do not take the blind fold off.”  
“Why? What’s so bad in there that I have to wear it?” Desmond tried to reach for it but was stopped by Arno.  
“This is serious,” the Frenchman told him, and there was something in his voice that told Desmond to listen. “What we’re walking into, I wouldn’t allow my own child in even when she was an adult, but there’s no way we’re leaving you outside where any ghost or demon can snatch you. You’ll be holding Altair and Ezio’s hands to help guide you once we’re inside. You’ll hear all kinds of things that will make you uncomfortable, and it will be chaotic in there. But no matter what, you do not, I repeat, you do not let go of Altair and Ezio’s hands, and you do not take off your blindfold.”  
Desmond knew that he was serious, and nodded his promise.  
“We’ll make sure nothing happens to you,” Bayek swore to him. “Just trust us and stay close.”  
“Okay.”  
Altair and Ezio held on to his hands, and altogether the Miles Clan stepped inside the Sinful Bliss. Everyone in the Miles Clan was glad that they had covered Desmond’s eyes to what they had walked into. There was modern music blasting in the background, but it might as well not have been playing since everyone in there was consumed by their own lust and pleasure. Desmond could hear grunts and pants, and wanted to know what was going on, but he didn’t dare ask his ancestors who led him. He could smell sweat, something fruity, and was that a candle burning?  
The ancestors were extremely uncomfortable as they awkwardly moved around the spirits pleasuring themselves in groups on the floors, the furniture, or the walls. If they had to step over a couple, Altair and Ezio lifted Desmond over them. This place filled them with disgust watching everyone who fucked for the sake of fucking.  
For Altair, growing up in Masyaf had what they called garden visions, women who talked and comforted men burdened from the deaths of their missions. When he and his family had left to deal with the Mongols, and Abbas overthrew Malik, the garden visions were treated no better than sex slaves, many of them fleeing or disfiguring themselves to avoid being raped.  
For Ezio, it reminded him too much of his time in Rome while he was fighting the Borgia. He had been forced to wait for his target and watch as he and his guests raped Claudia’s girls for their own pleasure.  
For Haytham, it reminded him of brothels his Templar brothers would visit and also of the harems his sister had been forced to serve in for years.  
For Connor, he had never ever seen such level of debauchery, and the fact that they had all come here with Desmond made him sick.  
For Edward, he had visited his fair share of brothels in the Carribean but nothing compared to what he saw right now. Even when he had been trying to find some relief, he always made certain the lady was enjoying it as much as him.  
For Shay, he had never had any reason to visit a brothel after Liam found him, so devoted he had been to his Irish Rose, but the knowledge of men taking such advantage of women filled him with anger, and was very tempted to stab several of the ghosts he saw.  
For Arno, if he was alive he would have trouble swallowing the bile he would have felt rising. He had always felt uncomfortable at de Sade’s parties, but as he had aged, they became more difficult for him. Add in the fact that he was leading his thirteen-year-old descendant in this brought up a painful memory he had always tried to bury. A sinister laugh, his daughter’s painful screams, his infant grandson’s cries- No, no, don’t go there. It’s in the past, and Juliette and Edmund are both safe in the Afterlife free of pain, and you will not let anything happen to him, Arno told himself.  
For Evie and Jacob, they could remember girls like Nellie and the women Jack had butchered. Jacob had helped his wife in saving girls from places such as this and moved them to safer ones that they could work at and be better protected. While Evie had been looking for Jacob during Jack’s reign of terror, she and her nephew Harry had worked to protect Nellie and girls like her from men who abused them.  
For Bayek and Amunet, this reminded them of Cleopatra’s parties as well as Roman ones Amunet had to infiltrate to track targets. It filled Amunet with such utter loathing to see men and women both take pleasure while harming their victims, and she made certain that anyone who so much as glanced at Desmond saw her glare and the weapons she carried.  
They finally found de Sade in a library with seven women in various states of undress surrounding him while he wrote something on his sofa. He noticed them and grinned, putting his writing materials down. “My dear Arno, what a lovely surprise. I have just returned from a visit to our la belle Paris.”  
Arno didn’t return the grin.  
De Sade then noticed Desmond, blindfolded between Altair and Ezio, and his grin became more like a cat with cream. “And who is this handsome little fellow?”  
The snick of almost a dozen hidden blades sounded in the room and the women shrieked in alarm. De Sade however wasn’t fazed.  
“Watch it de Sade. That’s my descendant,” Arno warned tightly.  
“Your descendant?” de Sade looked positively delighted. He looked closer at Desmond, and the living boy could feel his gaze, shifting uncomfortably, and squeezing Altair and Ezio’s hands tightly. De Sade nodded in approval, leaning back. “Yes, I can see your color, Ezio’s cheekbones, the Kenways’ nose, and Bayek’s lips, and my money is on his eyes being like Altair’s.”  
Desmond felt extremely uncomfortable, and he couldn’t see anything. “Can we just get to the part where we ask him where Cain is?” He knew he asked wrong when he heard several of his ancestors groan and mutter.  
De Sade seemed to recognize the seriousness of the situation and sent his girls away. Now alone, de Sade turned to Arno. “I’m hurt my dear, that you came here to visit me just for information instead of introducing me to your descendant.”  
“Cut the crap de Sade. You know why we’re here,” Arno told him.  
De Sade sighed dramatically. “It’s true, word has spread on the Other Side about your encounter with the Bogeyman and your hunt for Cain.”  
“Then you know where he is?” Connor asked.   
“Oh no, I don’t personally. However, one or two of my girls might know. After all, a man who’s been dead for seventy-six thousand years has to come here at least once in a while to find some relief.”  
“Then can you get them?” Haytham asked, obviously losing patience.  
“Now? Why my dear, I’ve just returned from Paris and my latest party is in full swing. To find them will take time. I have around 608,520,000 girls afterall.”  
Desmond’s jaw dropped. That was a lot.  
“However, a chest of mine was stolen while I was away, but my ladies recognized the thief. If you find him and return my chest to me, I’ll ask my girls to see which one of them could help you.”  
What? Was he serious? Desmond’s life was at stake and he wanted them to cash in on a favor? What the f-? He stopped his inner ranting when he heard a “bah”.  
“Is that a goat? What the heck is it doing in here?”  
His ancestors all froze at the question as a brown goat slipped through the cracked door and roamed the library. De Sade grinned and was about to open his mouth when Arno threatened. “Answer that question and I will throw you into the Styx.”  
A few minutes later, they took the deal and de Sade’s information on the thief, and were making their way out of the Sinful Bliss.  
Desmond however, wouldn’t let the question go unanswered. “I know what sex is, I just don’t know why you need a goat to do it.”  
Every one of his ancestors groaned and hurried to get Desmond out of the brothel before they caught more attention.

<<000{{*}}000>>

Helen watched as the Miles Clan left the Sinful Bliss, the Assassins Altair Ibn-La’Ahad and Ezio Auditore carried their descendant Desmond Miles out with a red sash covering his eyes.  
After the bogeyman had failed to capture the Miles boy, everyone knew that Cain would be furious. Although he was furious, Cain had surprisingly kept it mostly hidden. He then had sent Helen and several other ghosts to follow the Miles Clan as soon as they returned to the Other Side and they didn’t disappoint. Helen wasn’t trained compared to Assassins, Templars, or the warriors in her own time. The Cult never trained her to do any physical training, only how to lie and manipulate. Agamemnon and Menelaous hadn’t seen the point given that she was a woman. Only Paris had seen her true character. She did however knew how to be invisible even with her magnificent beauty, and she had thousands of years of practice with what they called Eagle Vision. There was also the fact that made her both happy and annoyed was that people underestimated her. It worked to her advantage as she followed the Miles Clan.   
Imagine her surprise when she followed them to the Sinful Bliss. She couldn’t believe that the Miles Clan would actually take a child, their own descendant into that place. When she married Menelaous it wasn’t uncommon to host such parties in their palace or Agamemnon’s. The parties always disgusted her, and she was always forced to sit next to Menelaous while he hosted them. She had tried to protect her daughter Hermione and not expose her to such debauchery. The only thing Helen could think of that would make Desmond’s family willing to take him inside the Sinful Bliss was that they were desperate and paranoid.  
She was hidden among the gold statues of the mansion, easily blending in with them and listened.  
Desmond had let go of his ancestors’ hands and removed his blindfold. “What kind of sick hang out is that?!”  
Helen could see each and every ghost of the Miles Clan wince and did not envy them.  
“Desmond…” the Italian Assassin Ezio Auditore began to explain, but the young boy didn’t let him.  
“First you guys tell me it’s a hangout place, then you tell not to stare or listen, but when we get there I see a woman with her boobs hanging out, then when we go inside I hear people that sound like they’re either exercising or being tortured, and then I hear a goat of all things in that place. So… what the fuck did you take me into?!”  
Helen will admit to feeling a little surprise to hearing such language from such a young modern boy, but considering the kind of people who were raising him she shouldn’t be. As his family explained the workings of a brothel without too much detail, Helen observed the living boy that was causing such a stir on the Other Side. Despite Cain’s claims, this boy did not look capable of killing. At least not yet. He reached the shoulders of the Frye twins, and was skinny with too long legs, but he would grow into them. In the last three thousand years Helen had seen many children grow into warriors. This boy, she could see him growing into a runner, a climber… an Assassin like most of his family. From where she was hiding, Helen could see the strong resemblance between Desmond and his ancestors Ezio Auditoer and Altair Ibn-La’Ahad along with small traces from the rest of his family. His features were a mix of so many heritages, but Helen knew that he would grow into a handsome man with a lot of girls chasing after him.  
However, there was something else about Desmond that seemed so familiar. Familiar to Helen as the seas she played in as a child, familiar as the walls of Troy where she lived for ten years before its fall, and familiar as the faces of the people she had loved and lost in her life. The set of his jaw, and the narrow shape of his eyes reminded Helen of the Trojan princes. Hector who was a fierce and noble warrior who defended his country to his last breath, and Paris, although more archer than swordsman, who fired swift and sure.  
Before she could lament more on the dead and Desmond’s resemblance to them, she saw the Miles Clan move out away from the Sinful Bliss. It was risky to follow them. These were men and women who were the deadliest of their kind. They knew how to survive, how to kill, how to track, and know when they’re being tracked. Helen for all her skills she had learned and picked up over the centuries knew she was no match for this family who guarded their descendant like they were Cerberus. She would have to leave this to someone more capable of handling them, much to her annoyance.  
She felt guilty to be hindering the family who were trying to protect their young. A small part of her even hoped that they would succeed, and Cain would fail.  
For the boy who resembled too much as a Trojan prince.

<<000{{*}}000>>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s shorter than usual. I’m hoping the next chapter will be longer.  
> For those of you who haven’t guessed it already, I plan on giving Helen a bigger role in this. You’ll see what I have in mind for her.   
> Thank you all for your support. Please favor and review this.

**Author's Note:**

> So what do you guys think for starters? I've been in a bit of an Assassin's Creed phase these past several months and have not found one fanfic where Desmond interacts with all the Assassin ancestors from the beginning to at least Assassin's Creed Origins so I decided to make my own. Then I've been watching the movie Coco (great movie by the way) and that kind of helped spawned this. I don't know how often I will be updating this. I have a very busy and demanding job. I also have other works and I can only write when inspiration hits me, but for now I will try to update as often as I can.


End file.
